jt. 


•  m 


SfacK 


(Ennplc  JteraEl  pulpit. 


BY 


MAURICE    H.    HARRIS,   Pn.D 

MINISTER    OF    TEMPLE    ISRAEL    UK    HARLEM 
NEW    YORK 


NEW  YORK: 
I'HILIl1  CUWEN,  213-215  EAST  44TH  STREET 

I894. 


Stack 
Annex 

BM 


HZ5 


l/, 


TO     THE     MEMORY     OK     HIM      FROM     WHOM      MY     FIRST      RELIGIOUS 

LESSONS     CAME,      AND     WHOSE     SIMl'LK     PIETY     WAS     THE 

PROMPTING     1M1TI.SE     THAT     LED     ME     TO     FOLLOW 

HIS   CALLING, 
AND    WHO    IS    STILL    MY    INSPIRATION, 


THIS     VOLUME     IS     REVERENTLY 
DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS. 
J/&  ^<* 


Bless  God  for  Good  as  well  as  for  Evil. 


3 


X    T> 

2.  Patriotism. 

3.  Religion  and  Sacrifice.  .     . 

4.  Truth.  ....  ^  \f 

5.  Job.-I. 

6.  Job— TI.  -     •      • 

7.  The  Influence  of  the  Parent  on  the  Child.  •  -    • 

8.  The  Influence  of  the  Child  on  the  Parent    -  • 

a 

9.  The  Sins  of  the  Fathers.     -    •  '   ^ 

10.  Micah's  Creed. — I     .  ,   , 

•.        «       •  /  /  • 

1 1.  Micah's  Creed. —  II.  2 

1 2.  The  Oldness  of  the  New.    •    *     ' 

/  3 

13.  How  should  we  mourn  the  Departed?    -     - 

/  tf     7 

14.  Is  Proselytism  a  Duty  of  Judaism?    ,      .    • 

15.  The  Ideal  in  Life.     • 

16.  Sophists  and  Pharisees— or,  the  Vitality  of  Error.  / 

17.  Sentiment  and  Law.  .     ^    «• 

1 8      Gambling.    fc      »*•'•'»'•  ^ 

19.  Sin  and  Duty.    •      «• 

20.  The  Fool  hath  said  in  his  Heart,  There  is  no  God. 


1 


PREFACE. 

AT  the  solicitation  of  a  few  friends  and  with  the 
kind  encouragement  of  the  Trustees  of  Ternple  Israel 
I  have  been  induced  to  issue  some  of  my  sermons 
in  pamphlet  form,  for  a  period  of  twenty  weeks. 
This  volume  comprises  the  series  for  the  year  1894. 
Although  in  the  nature  of  an  experiment  the  many 
pleasant  messages  that  have  reached  me  about  the 
sermons  from  those  whom  they  have  helped  and  com- 
forted, encourages  me  to  consider  the  advisability  of 
continuing  their  publication  next  year. 


THANK  GOD  FOR  THE  EVIL   AS   WELL  AS 
FOR  THE  GOOD. 


i(  Thank  God  for  the   Evil  as  well 
as  for  the  Good" 


There  is  a  cloud  hanging  over  the  nation,  just  as  it  is 
being  summoned  to  break  forth  into  thanksgiving,  that 
to  some  seems  to  question  the  appropriateness  of  thanks- 
giving at  all.  Do  the  people  at  large  feel  in  such  a 
condition  of  security  and  content,  that  they  can,  with  full 
hearts  and  honest  intent,  burst  into  gratitude  for  all  their 
blessings?  Has  not  many  a  lip  quivered  and  many  a 
heart  faltered  in  trying  to  frame  a  prayer  of  thankful- 
ness this  week — as  though  it  could  not  be  quite  genuine  . 

The  "hard  times"  have  affected  nearly  all  of  us? 
though  not  in  an  equal  degree.  It  has  touched  some 
lightly,  it  has  crushed  others.  Those  who  live  on  wages 
and  have  lost  their  employment  have  already  eaten  up 
their  savings,  if  they  were  thrifty  enough  to  have  sav- 
ings. Others  have  had  to  dispose  of  the  little  costly 
treasures  that  nearly  every  family  possesses  as  heirloom5 
from  a  past  generation,  in  order  to  keep  fire  in  the  stove 
and  the  wolf  from  the  door.  While  the  benevolent 
institutions  have  had  their  hands  full  to  supply  the 
pressing  needs  of  many  who  have  never  before  had  to 
submit  to  the  humiliation  of  receiving  charity.  But 
people  have  to  swallow  pride  when  they  have  nothing 
else  to  swallow,  and  crying  children  drive  us  to  many 
desperate  things. 

Yes,  times  are  hard  ;  but  who  has  made  them  so  ?  Not 
God.  The  land  has  not  been  visited  by  famine — the 
crops  were  fairly  prosperous  this  year.  While  the  wheat 
crop  has  fallen  oft  from  the  unusually  high  standard  of 


last  year,  the  yield  of  oats  and  corn  has  been  larger,  and 
that  of  potatoes  and  sugar  also.  God  has  fulfilled  His 
part.  We  have  not  the  satisfaction  of  being  able  to  cry  : 
"  The  hand  of  God  !"  the  usual  phrase  for  those  visita. 
tions  that  are  beyond  our  control.  No  ;  it  is  the  hand 
of  man.  There  is  a  very  significant  quotation  in  the 
Book  of  Proverbs:  "He  that  maketh  haste  to  be  rich 
shall  not  go  unpunished."  Everybody  wanted  to  become 
rich  at  a  bound,  and  enormously  rich  at  that.  They 
were  too  greedy  and  too  grasping.  The  manufacturer, 
whose  avarice  grew  by  what  it  fed  on,  continued  to  turn 
out  goods  far  in  excess  of  the  demand,  until  they  became 
a  glut  upon  the  market,  and  could  not  be  sold.  Thus 
the  money  did  not  come  back  to  pay  the  indebtedness 
incurred — the  manufacturers  could  not  meet  their  loans. 
But  so  interwoven  is  the  whole  commercial  world  that 
what  is  felt  by  one  is  felt  by  all.  The  delay  of  the  man- 
ufacturers to  pay  their  indebtedness  also  made  it  difficult 
for  them  to  borrow  more  Creditors  grew  distrustful. 
money  began  to  be  hoarded  and  became  scarce.  With 
little  demand  for  goods  already  manufactured  and  no 
means  to  manufacture  more,  the  mills  and  factories  had 
to  shut  down.  That  was  the  stage  when  the  disaster 
reached  the  poor  man  Thousands  found  themselves 
out  of  employment,  with  doubtful  outlook  indeed. 
Everybody  began  to  economize,  but  that  meant  still  less 
production,  so  yet  more  were  thrown  out  of  employ- 
ment. But  these  are  the  platitudes  of  this  year's  panic 
that  everybody  knows,  and  that  most  of  you  know  more 
exactly  than  I. 

Such  is  the  condition  and  such  its  causes.  There  were 
minor  causes,  too.  But  the  prime  factor  was  the  avari- 
cious haste  of  everybody  to  become  rich,  a  mad  scramble 
for  gold.  There  is  a  law  of  acquisition.  It  must  be 
steady,  slow,  and  the  outgrowth  of  industry  to  be  legiti- 


mate.  Nature  makes  no  bounds.  We  sow  the  ground, 
but  have  to  wait  a  season  till  we  can  reap  the  grain. 
There  are  people  who  think  they  can  go  down  to  Wall 
Street,  and,  by  a  clever  speculation,  become  rich  in  an 
hour.  It  has  been  done,  it  is  true.  But  one  can  also 
become  poor  in  an  hour.  That  is  considered  a  good  deal 
easier  and  a  good  deal  more  usual.  But  it  is  not  the 
right  way  nor  the  just  way,  nor,  in  the  long  run,  the 
best  way  to  earn  one's  living.  It  unfits  for  legitimate 
labor.  So,  realizing  that  we  have  none  to  blame  but 
ourselves  we  appear  in  God's  presence  at  this  time  of 
thanksgiving  with  shametul  faces.  He  has  provided, 
but  we  have  abused.  Not  all  are  the  offenders,  but  all 
are  the  sufferers.  Because  some  believed  in  gambling 
more  than  in  labor,  a  blight  has  fallen  upon  the  land. 
And  behold  the  collapse,  proverbial  consequence  of  all 
inflation  ! 

"  Should  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God  and  not 
receive  evil  ?"  said  Job,  and  his  words  were  re-echoed  in 
a  rabbinical  command:  "It  is  as  directly  our  duty  to 
thank  God  for  the  good  as  for  the  evil." 

*  naion  "?y  TOO  sin^  DKO  njnn  }y  T^  DIN  3"n 

The  lesson  has  been  very  severely  bought ;  but  if  we 
value  things  by  their  cost,  the  calamity  paid  for  so  dearly 
may  do  more  ultimate  good  to  the  country  than  it  has 
done  temporary  harm.  Sometimes  misfortune  is  the 
best  thing  that  can  happen  to  us  just  as  success  is  at 
times  our  greatest  danger.  This  is  as  true  of  communi- 
ties as  of  individuals.  Unfortunately,  we  will  persist  in 
unlearning  life's  lessons,  in  discarding  the  precious 
experience  of  the  past, and  that  common  sense  that  is  the 
best  philosophy. 

But  those  who  will  take  to   heart   and  to  practice  the 


*  Mishna— Berachroth,  chap,  ix.,  par.  5. 


lessons  of  these  hard  times  may  well  be  thankful  for 
them,  whatever  they  have  cost.  And  if  there  be  a  ring 
of  sadness  in  our  thanksgiving,  the  better  for  it. 

Among  other  things,  this  financial  crisis  has  revealed 
to  us,  I  think,  the  importance  of  making  Political  Econ- 
omy a  necessary  part  of  every  education.  No  lad  should 
go  forth  to  the  world  unless  he  knows  the  true  meaning 
of  wealth — wealth  for  the  country  as  distinguished  from 
wealth  for  the  individual.  He  should  know  how  it  is 
produced,  and,  what  is  even  more  important  than  pro- 
duction, how  it  is  distributed ;  what  methods  can  best 
facilitate  distribution,  so  that  grain  will  not  be  rotting 
at  one  end  of  the  earth,  while  people  are  famishing  for 
the  want  of  it  at  the  other.  At  the  colleges,  this  study 
should  be  given  more  importance  than  the  classics, 
though  I  do  not  believe  in  that  vandal  spirit  that  would 
banish  this  best  means  of  culture  from  a  liberal  educa- 
tion. But  it  certainly  should  not  be  an  "elective." 

I  think  the  hard  times  have  taught  Americans  another 
lesson  that  they  needed  more  than  any  other  nation  in 
the  world — the  lesson  of  thrift.  There  is  something 
sinful  in  our  extravagance.  It  has  become  an  illustra- 
tion for  proverb.  Many  could  live  on  what  we  throw 
away.  The  economy  of  the  European  household  is 
spoken  of  contemptuously.  Because  the  people  scatter 
money  so  freely,  do  they  find  it  necessary  to  make  such 
colossal  fortunes  ?  Thrift,  care  and  conscientiousness 
go  hand  in  hand. 

If  there  were  more  sense  of  economy,  there  would  be 
less  need  of  charity.  Charity  is  not  always  the  best 
thing  we  can  do  ;  sometimes  it  is  one  of  the  worst.  The 
poor  grow  poorer  as  the  rich  richer,  partly  because  the 
very  rich  give  easily  and  freely,  and  do  not  bother  to 
ask  questions,  and  therefore  encourage  shiftlessness  and 
foster  pauperism.  The  extravagance  of  indiscrimi  nate 


charity  is  not  the  least  blamable  of  our  extravagances. 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  says :  "  That  charity  is  twice  cursed. 
It  curses  him  that  gives  and  him  that  receives.  To  the 
rich  man  it  is  a  mere  drug  to  still  his  conscience,  and 
offers  a  spurious  receipt  in  full  for  the  neglect  of  social 
duties.  To  the  poor  man  it  is  an  encouragement  to  live 
without  self-respect  and  without  providence."  I  say, 
then,  better  than  giving  the  poor  man  charity,  give  him 
a  chance.  Let  us  not  handicap  poverty  so  much,  nor 
give  to  wealth  that  dangerous  facility  of  endless  multi- 
plication. 

So,  if  this  temporary  set-back  has  checked  us  in  a 
headlong  course  of  avarice,  indulgence,  carelessness  and 
extravagance,  let  us  not  thank  God  the  less,  but  the 
more.  But,  for  that  matter,  it  is  not  the  most  successful 
man  who  feels  most  thankful.  Our  gratitude  to  God  does 
not  depend  upon  the  special  prosperity  of  the  hour,  nor 
does  itvary  with  the  individual  and  accidental  benefits  of 
the  hour.  Our  thankfulness  toward  Him  has  nothing  to 
do  with  our  present  bank  account.  If  we  feel  grateful  at 
all, we  will  feel  grateful  always,  His  bounties  to  us  never 
fail;  a  little  more  money  or  a  little  less,here  is  still  infinite 
blessing.  Gratitude  is  ultimately  a  question  of  character 
Therefore,  I  always  think  it  in  a  measure  degrading  to  our 
religious  sense  of  obligation  to  our  Maker,  first  to  sum 
up  our  material  interests,  to  take  in  the  results  of  a  last 
election,  and  then  to  thank  God  for  personal,  private 
and  partisan  advantages. 

Is  gratitude  helpful  ?  Does  it  matter  much  whether 
we  feel  grateful  towards  God  or  not  ?  It  may  not  mat- 
ter much  to  Him,  but  it  matters  much  to  us.  If  we  do 
not  feel  grateful,  we  cannot  feel  content.  Gratitude  is 
the  bloom  of  contentment.  Our  whole  financial  trouble 
has  arisen  partly  from  discontent,  or  rather  from  greed 
to  obtain  more  than  the  ample  needs  and  simple  com- 


8 


forts  of  life  call  for.  If  we  are  satisfied  with  our  portion^ 
we  are  likely  to  think  of  our  duties  to  others.  So  grati- 
tude is  the  parent  of  philanthropy,  of  all  good,  unselfish 
and  improving  helpful  work.  Gratitude  does  not  rest 
in  itself — in  which  respect  it  is  distinct  from  content— it 
seeks  an  outflow  for  its  feeling.  "  I  feel  so  grateful  I 
must  do  something."  Teach  the  people  to  be  grateful* 
and  you  do  more  to  discourage  nihilism  than  all  intimi- 
dating laws. 

Gratitude  has. I  say,little  to  do  with  earthly  possessions. 
Nothing  is  less  conducive  to  content  and  gratitude 
than  wealth  without  duties.  A  young  man  this  week 
committed  suicide  simply  because  he  had  nothing  parti- 
cular to  live  for.  His  greatest  want  was  that  he  had  no 
want.  You  need  pray  no  prayer  more  fervently  than, 
"I  thank  God  for  my  needs,"  since  they  give  the  zest  to 
life  and  make  it  worth  living.  Because  there  is  no  choice 
as  to  work,,  since  you  must  labor  or  you  will  starve, 
there  is  an  interest  in  your  work  and  a  joy  in  it  than  if 
it  were  entirely  voluntary  you  would  hardly  feel. 
:  Let  us  be  grateful  to  God  for  the  obstacles  of  life,  for 
its  hardships,  for  its  pains.  That  which  we  get  without 
sirugglirig  for  we  do  not  value  ;  the  conflict  deepens  the 
triumph,  makes  it  a  triumph  at  all  ;  and  the  harder  the 
effort,  the  grander  the  joy.  An  occasional  alternation 
of  suffering  makes  us  understand  the  sweetness  of  health. 
Life's  joys  are  rooted  in  life's  sorrows,  and  the  "partial 
evil  becomes  the  universal  good." 

<•  It  is  the  martyrs  that  make  religion  sublime.  If  it  did 
not  command  self-sacrifice,  we  would  not  trust  it.  When 
we  suffer  for -truth  it  is  glorified,  and  because  men  have 
,died  for  liberty  do  we  realize  how  precious  it  is.  Yes  ! 
let  us  thank  God  for  the  evil  as  well  as  for  the  good,  for 
evil  reveals  the  good  and  makes  it  possible.  Whom  God 
loves  He  chastens  ;  chastening  purifies  as  well  as  pains. 


And  although  \ve  should  not  seek  troubles,  we  also  need 
not  fear  them. 

Look  back  upon  your  life,  and  recall  how  much  good 
you  owe  to  certain  disappointments;  first,  to  the  very 
necessity  that  drove  you  to  this  country,  you  who  were 
pilgrims  here — of  hardships  in  your  early  home  that 
toughened  you  and  brought  out  your  capacities,  of  the 
valuable  discipline  of  poverty,  of  hard  work,  of  rivalry, 
of  reverses,  of  anxieties.  Take  yourself  as  you  are,  and 
thank  God  you  are  what  you  are. 

Let  us  thank  God  for  the  evil,  then,  because  it  is  not 
unmixed.  Judaism  believes  in  no  Ahriman  spirit  of 
darkness  with  whom  Orrnuzd  spirit  of  light  must  con- 
tend. God  has  no  rivals  in  His  universe,  no  demons  or 
devils;  He  is  Sole  Master.  Evil  is  not  positive;  it  is 
simply  negative — our  failure  to  reach  perfection.  A  sin 
is  a  weakness,  the  good  in  us  not  strongly  enough 
developed.  The  dispiriting  materialists,  on  the  other 
hand,  doubt  the  actuality  of  good.  Schopenhauer  tried 
to  explain  away  our  conscience,  calling  it  one-fifth  van- 
ity, one-fifth  superstition,  one-fifth  prejudice,  one-fifth 
fear,  and  one-fifth  custom.  I  have  no  patience  with 
those  philosophers  of  the  mud  who  would  reduce  all 
our  virtues  to  physical  sensibility, and  decompose  human 
merit  in  the  crucible  of  necessity.  If  we  would  help 
humanity,  it  is  evil  we  must  explain  away.  Let  us  real 
ize  that  the  essence  of  every  child  of  God  is  good.  We 
have  but  to  remove  weeds,  cut  away  excrescences,  prune 
wild  growths,  and  the  divine  image  will  emerge."  Every 
man  is  intrusted  with  himself,  so  to  speak,  in  a  more  or 
less  raw  or  rude  state.  He  must  manufacture  himself, 
removing  dregs  and  dross  and  all  superfluous  matter, 
must  pass  himself  through  the  furnace  of  affliction, 
through  I  lie  wringing  pressures  of  discipline.  These  are 
not  evils  ;  these  are  helpful  processes. 


10 


Let  us  thank  God  for  the  evil  ;  it  is  life's  education  if 
we  use  it  wisely.  Yes  !  the  woes  of  life  give  it  pathos, 
give  it  depth,  give  it  solemnity.  In  a  too  long  period, 
uninterrupted  by  care,  life  becomes  flat.  When  trouble 
departs,  ennui  enters.  There  are  no  people  so  empty,  so 
unfeeling,  so  superficial,  so  ignorant  of  the  inner  facts 
of  life  as  those  who  have  known  no  great  sorrow.  This 
may  be  one  of  the  elements  of  greatness  of  the  Jewish 
race.  Because  "suffrance  has  been  the  badge  of  all 
their  tribe,"  the  tragedy  of  fifteen  centuries  has  given 
them  dignity. 

Let  us  dare  to  deny  the  eternity  of  evil,  the  actuality 
of  evil.  Let  us  make  every  day  of  life  a  day  of  thanks- 
giving to  God,  whate'er  betides,  whate'er  be  its  experi- 
ence. Let  us  thank  Him  for  life,  its  opportunities  and 
its  glories  ;  for  beauty,  for  love,  for  laughter  ;  for  nature 
and  for  art  ;  for  labor  and  for  recreation  ;  for  sunshine, 
for  repose,  and  for  the  company  of  each  other.  These 
boons  belong  to  all.  They  break  through  the  cramping 
boundaries  of  caste  ;  they  are  independent  of  wealth  or 
station  or  nationality  ;  they  are  that  common  property 
of  which  the  socialist  dreams;  part  of  that  human  inheri- 
tance born  with  every  creature,  which  neither  law  nor 
force  nor  villany  can  take  away. 

So  I  begin  to  understand  what  the  Rabbins  meant 
when  they  said:  "The  time  will  come  when  the  only 
prayer  offered  by  man  to  God  will  be  the  prayer  of 
thanksgiving."  As  we  come  to  understand  life  better, 
and  see  the  meaning  of  its  shadows  as  well  as  of  its 
lights,  we  every  day  find  out  that  some  force  or  some 
sensation  or  some  experience  that  we  in  our  ignorance 
had  labelled  evil  or  useless,  serves  a  noble  end.  The 
growth  of  wisdom  shows  the  lessening  of  presumed  evil 
forces.  Soon  we  will  know  that  everything  in  this  world 
of  God,  be  it  dark  or  light,  be  it  awful  or  delightful,  be  it 


PATRIOTISM. 


Patriotism. 


A  CHANUKA  SERMON. 


When  the  Maccabees  appeared  in  the  field  to  fight  for  God 
and  country,  carrying  aloft  the  banner  emblazoned  with  the 
watchword  of  their  reagion:  "Who  is  like  unto  Thee,  among 
the  mighty,  O  Eternal !"  we  can  well  imagine  the  inspiration 
of  that  battle-cry,  and  how  it  brought  thousands  to  their 
standard,  who  had  till  then  hung  back  in  alarm.  How  easy 
it  is  to  follow  in  the  line  of  triumph,  and  to  be  set  aflame  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  victory!  When  we  see  the  hero  crowned, 
greatness  seems  such  an  easy  thing. 

There  is  a  glamor  about  patriotism  that  makes  us  think 
only  of  its  g'ory.  To  the  popular  mind  it  calls  up  a  picture 
of  flying  flags,  beating  drums,  gay  uniforms  and  general  enthu- 
siasm. That  is  patriotism  seen  from  its  sensational  and  festive 
side.  We  forget  that  the  highest  achievement  is  to  make  the 
difficult  seem  easv.  We  must  not  delude  ourselves,  nor  let 
our  feelings  carry  us  away  into  a  forgetfulness  of  our  normal 
powers  and  our  normal  limitations.  Nothing  great  is  easy, 
nothing  easy  is  great. 

Yes!  there  are  the  legions  of  Antiochus  fleeing  before  Israel's 
zealous  champions.  Behold  these  daring  Hebrews  victorious 
in  three  successive  battles,  throwing  themselves  fearlessly 
upon  their  enemies,  borne  forward  by  a  faith  in  God  and 
Right  that  nothing  could  withstand.  But  did  we  look  back 
a  little  to  an  earlier  stage  of  the  contest,  we  would  have  seen 
this  same  Judas  Maccabeus  a  fugitive  in  the  mountains,  with 
just  a  few  trusty  men  around  him,  the  capital  Jerusalem  in 
the  enemy's  hands,  the  Temple  despoiled,  the  people  panic- 
stricken,  flying  in  all  directions.  Then  we  would  have  under- 
stood that  faith  and  bravery  are  not  easy  acquisitions. 


4    v 


Washington  at  Valley  Forge  presents  a  very  different  picture 
from  Washington  at  Yorktown.  Let  us  look  back  yet  a  little 
further,  and  we  will  see  the  Syrian  officers,  guarded  by  troops, 
come  unexpectedly  upon  each  little  town  and  proceed  to 
prohibit  Judaism  by  law  as  a  capital  offense.  Then  we  will 
realize  that  in  that  unprepared  way,  with  no  army  organ- 
ized and  no  assurance  of  support,  refusal  to  obey*  which 
was  called  treason,  was  no  such  easy  matter.  To  too  many 
it  seemed  impossible.  There  is  but  one  Mattathias  who 
dares  to  come  forward  and  throw  down  the  idolatrous  altar. 
That  is  the  moment  to  appreciate  what  patriotism  means. 

But  even  this  is  not  the  only  side  of  patriotism  nor  its 
highest  form.  It  is  usual  to  associate  it  with  fighting,  war 
and  oppression,  as  though  only  at  such  time  is  there  oppor- 
tunity for  its  exercise.  It  is  in  time  of  peace  and  in  the 
ordinary  routine  of  civil  duties  that  we  have  the  best  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  our  patriotism.  War  is  an  incident  in  a 
nation's  history,  a  rarer  incident  as  civilization  advances,  but 
patriotism  should  be  a  persistent  virtue.  Modern  nations  are 
not  militarisms  but  industrialisms.  Every  man  is  not  a 
soldier,  but  every  man  is  a  worker.  We  can  serve  our  country 
by  our  hands  better  than  by  our  arms,  and  he  who  invents  a 
steam  plough  does  more  good  to  his  nation  and  to  mankind 
than  he  who  invents  a  smokeless  powder.  The  safety  of  a 
nation  never  lays  in  its  armies  nor  in  its  ships  of  war.  Some 
of  the  world's  best  patriots  have  never  wielded  a  sword. 
Judas  Maccabeus  was  more  than  a  soldier,  while  Mattathias 
was  not  a  soldier  at  all.  Hannah's  seven  sons  and  the  aged 
Eleazor  did  none  of  the  fighting  part  of  the  Chanuka  history, 
but  in  their  steadfastness  to  duty,  as  they  understood  it,  they 
were  among  the  noblest  defenders  of  their  nation  and  their 
people;  for  religion  and  patriotism  were  one  then.  Those 
martyr  mothers,  with  their  martyred  babes  around  their  necks, 
did  more  than  we  can  tell,  to  inspire  their  brethren  to  armed 
resistance.  Patriotism  is  not  a  virtue  confined  to  men  of 


/s 


muscle  or  even  to  men  at  all,  and  those  who  do  no  military 
service,  who  make  neither  speeches  nor  laws  in  the  legisla- 
tures, and  who  cast  no  ballot,  may  yet  be  patriotic  in  an 
intense  degree,  and  can  serve  their  country  as  faithfully  and 
as  valuably.  If  a  woman  would  be  patriotic,  she  need  not 
join  a  woman's-rightsr  association  nor  clamor  for  the  suffrage;in 
the  home  can  she  best  show  her  patriotism.  And  even  there, 
she  need  not,  Spartan-like,  say  "Return  either  with  your  shield 
or  on  your  shield."  This  is  the  patriotism  of  barbarism. 

Let  us  remember  that  tiie  Maccabean  battle  was  an  incident 
of  the  great  history  commemorated  in  this  festival,  as  the  War 
of  the  Rebellion  was  but  an  incident  in  the  emancipation  of 
the  slaves.  The  best  fighting  and  the  hardest  in  the  latter  case 
was  done  before  a  shot  was  fired  on  Fort  Sumter.  It  was  a 
fight  of  principle  —the  right  of  human  freedom  as  against  the 
"  thousand  villanies  of  slavery."  That  struggle  lasted  thirty 
years  and  more  before  the  education  was  complete.  In  every 
skirmish  in  this  conflict  of  ideas,  the  cause  of  justice  and 
humanity  continued  to  gain  ground.  And  when  the  emanci- 
pation proclamation  was  issued,  the  moral  baltle  at  least  was 
over. 

Before  some  cowards  feared  to  be  patriots  when  Antiochus' 
legions  appeared  at  Jerusalem,  some  traitors  had  already 
become  ashamed  to  be  patriots  in  Alexandria.  That  was  the 
first  chapter  of  the  history  commemorated  in  this  festival. 
There  was  no  fighting  to  do  and  no  oppress:on  to  withstand 
The  question  then  was,  whether,  in  the  face  of  a  fashionable 
and  corrupt  society,  they  would  remember  the  traditions  of 
their  Judean  home  and  their  Mosaic  code;  and  whether,  in 
the  presence  of  the  living  temptations  of  gladiatorial  cruelties, 
Bacchanalian  revelries  and  Venus  obscenities,  they  would  dare 
to  be  true  to  that  simplicity  and  chastity  which  was  their 
inheritance  from  the  great  prophets,  that  at  once  distin- 
guished them  from  among  all  the  nations  of  the  world. 

That  was  when  the  bloodless  struggle  began — when  Greek 


/6 


met  Jew — when  the  latter  wavered  for  a  moment  between 
Gentile  culture  and  Mosaic  morals,  doubting  whether  he 
should  be  ashamed  or  proud  of  the  homely  virtues  and 
homely  ways  of  the  land  of  his  fathers.  Here  was  the  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  the  truest  patriotism,  when  there  was  no 
occasion  for  heroics,  no  applauding  audience  to  watch  and 
cheer,  but  just  the  eye  of  God  to  see  the  duty  of  loyalty  to 
people  and  country  fulfilled  or  neglected,  with  but  the  voice 
of  conscience  to  whisper  approval  at  each  act  of  integrity  and 
steadfastness  to  national  and  religious  institution?. 

The  growth  of  this  patriotic  spirit  in  Judea  (not  among  the 
wealthy  Sadducees  and  priests,  but  among  the  Pharisee 
masses — that  misunderstood  Jewish  demuciacy)  was  the  best 
and  the  only  military  preparation  to  meet  the  armed  merce- 
naries of  Epiphanes. 

That  patriotism  implies  enmity  of  other  nations  is  another 
popular  error.  Boys  are  fed  on  literature  that  forever  pic- 
tures patriotism  the  knocking  down  and  the  discomfiture  of 
enemies.  Israel  could  be  faithful  to  Judrea  without  mistrusting 
all  the  world;  they  could  learn  something  from  Alexandria; 
they  could  surely  discriminate  between  philosophy  and 
mythology;  they  should  have  had  sufficient  self  control  to  ac- 
cept the  broadening  culture  while  drawing  the  line  at  loose 
morals.  It  was  fanatical  of  some  Judeans  to  condemn  every- 
thing Greek  as  such ;  as  narrow  as  it  is  for  some  Americans  to 
condemn  everything  European  as  such.  It  is  a  libel  on 
patriotism  to  confuse  it  with  the  hatred  of  a  foreigner.  When 
nations  were  continually  at  war  we  can  understand  how  that 
spirit  would  be  fostered.  Nor  is  it  a  fine  exhibition  of  pa- 
triotism to  pass  such  tariff  laws  as  may  ruin  the  industries  of 
some  other  nation  and  reduce  its  working  people  to  starva- 
tion and  misery.  Patriotism  is  love  of  country  — love  of  coun- 
try is  not  exclusive,  but  intensive.  It  does  not  imply  the  hatred 
of  other  countries — that  is  not  even  the  negative  side  of  pa- 
triotism The  love  of  one's  own  children  does  not  exclude  affec- 


/7     * 

tion  for  other  children.  The  human  heart  has  room  for  many 
special  affections  and  no  one  need  exclude  another.  We  should 
rejoice  when  the  kinship  between  nations  is  strengthened  It 
should  be  gratifying  to  us  that  a  country  once  our  foe,  delights 
to  do  honor  to  a  great  American,  in  placing  memorial  win- 
dows in  Westminster  Abbey  to  James  Russell  Lowell,  ar.d  we 
should  echo  the  hope  expressed  by  Ambassador  Bayard,  that 
in  our  international  relations  'suspicion  might  be  replaced  by 
confidence  and  ignorant  animosity  by  friendly  appreciation." 
1  am  glad  that  the  great  Liberty  Bell  cast  for  the  Exposition 
is  to  be  taken  to  Runnymeade  on  Magna  Charta  :  ay,  June 
•  5th,  which  will  be  a  celebration  by  all  English-speaking  peo. 
pie  of  the  greatest  liberty  event  in  the  history  of  the  race. 
The  nations,  like  the  religions,  are  coming  together  at  last. 

I  need  hardly  inform  the  thoughtful  that  patriotism  does 
not  consist  in  the  boast  of  national  superiority.  ;'Not  because 
you  are  the  greatest  nation,  have  you  been  chosen.''  Moses 
reminds  Israel.  Our  mission  must  not  fill  us  with  self-import  - 
ance,  though  it  may  awaken  just  pride.  And  if  it  tends  to 
encourage  us  to  look  with  contempt  on  other  nations  or  peo 
pies,  then  it  is  a  tendency  that  we  cannot  too  severely  icpress 
Israel  has  been  chosen  for  a  duty  and  not  for  a  privilege,  to 
be  the  servants  of  God  was  not  to  be  loaded  with  honor,  it 
meant  to  suffer  for  His  sake.  We  have  carefully  eliminated 
from  our  modern  prayer-books  all  phrases  that  even  suggest 
the  statement  of  our  superiority,  while  we  recoil  with  horror 
to-day  from  applying  the  term  j'p^'  to  any  one  in  a  civilized 
community. 

The  Maccabean  motto,  "  D^X3  H3O3  'D,  was  not  a 
boast,  but  a  religious  conviction.  They  felt  that  what- 
ever greatness  was  theirs  grew  out  of  their  belief  in  that 
God.  They  did  not  wage  an  offensive  but  a  defensive 
war— they  asked  nothing  but  freedom  of  conscience. 
When  they  took  refuge  in  subterranean  caves  in  order 
to  read  their  Scriptures,  when  they  suffered  slaughter 


rather  than  desecrate  their  Sabbath,  until  they  saw  that 
the  enemy  was  going  to  make  that  the  opportunity  of 
their  extermination  — we  need  not  say  that  such  was  no 
idle  vaunting,  it  was  the  heroic  expression  of  deepest 
faith  wrung  from  the  agony  of  their  souls.  They  felt  that 
the  moral  destiny  of  mankind  was  with  them,  and  that  on 
their  steadfastness  hung  humanity's  future.  This  was 
no  boast.  It  was  that  innermost  conviction  which  every 
one  in  his  loftiest  moments  feels,  but  which  the  Jewish 
race  felt  most,  that  divinity  and  righteousness  must  be 
right  and  that  whatever  is  antagonistic  thereto  must  be 
wrong. 

Those  Americans  are  not  most  patriotic  who  boast 
most  about  America.  Boasting  is  either  childish  or 
vulgar.  The  American  abroad  who  talks  big  of  every- 
thing American  and  disparagingly  of  everything  un- 
American,  by  no  means  elevates  the  good  name  of  his 
countrymen.  Indeed  he  is  a  libel  on  those  Americans 
of  gentility,  good  taste  and  reserve,  who  blush  for  such 
parvenu  bragging  and  who  deplore  such  unfortunate 
representation.  Experience  has  taught,  that  those  who 
boast  most  of  their  country,  are  those  of  whom  their 
country  has  least  reason  to  boast.  I  think  it  was  Samuel 
Johnson  who  said  :  "  Patriotism  is  the  last  refuge  of  a 
scoundrel."  It  is  a  pity  that  the  American  press,  except- 
ing always  a  few  select  newspapers,  should  foster  this 
regretful  failing,  and  should  be  doing  its  best  to  make  it 
an  American  characteristic. 

Said  Byron,''When  I  see  the  superiority  of  my  country, 
I  am  pleased, when  I  discover  its  inferiority,  I  am  enlight- 
ened." That,  criticism  is  more  valuable  than  praise,  is  a 
lesson  that  both  Jews  and  Americans  need  very  badly. 
"Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend."  He  who  points 
out  the  failings  of  his  countrymen,  may  show  truer 
patriotism  than  if  he  indulged  in  that  spread-eagle  eulogy 


/9 


that  is  sure  to  redound  to  his  own  popularity.  Jeremiah 
showed  his  patriotism  by  telling  Judah  that  it  deserved 
to  be  defeated.  Chatham  showed  his  patriotism  to 
England  by  denouncing  her  policy  against  the  American 
colonies.  I  do  not  put  much  faith  in  that  after  dinner 
patriotism,  made  up  for  the  most  part  of  stars  and  stripes 
and  self-sufficiency.  He  who  tells  his  countrymen  un- 
pleasant truths  loves  them  most  after  all,  or  why  need 
he  say  what  puts  him  in  an  unfavorable  light  and  upsets 
a  fond  idolatry  ?  Love  is  not  blind.  Parents  censure 
oftener  than  they  praise.  ''My  country,  right  or  wrong," 
is  not  patriotism  but  prejudice. 

We  need  salutary  warnings  from  our  statesmen  from 
time  to  time  to  keep  our  integrity  bright  and  to 
remind  us  what  we  stand  for.  For  the  United  States 
does  stand  for  something — it  was  not  the  outcome  of 
growth  or  accident,  or  at  least  less  so  than  other  nation- 
alities. It  was  a  nation  deliberately  founded  on  a 
principle.  In  our  growing  prosperity  we  are  in  danger 
of  forgetting  our  ideals.  As  a  contrast  to  that  boastful- 
ness  just  mentioned,  is  the  snobbish  imitation  of  those 
very  institutions  that  it  is  in  the  spirit  of  true  American" 
ism  to  regard  as  superfluous.  (This  proves  by  the  way 
that  boastfulness  indicates  a  sense  of  weakness;  those 
who  are  sure  of  themselves  never  boast.)  I  say  it  is  a 
strange  inconsistency,  to  have  rejected  titles  as  survivals 
of  lower  civilization  and  then  to  run  after  them  when 
held  by  Europeans,  and  even  to  be  anxious  to  marry 
one's  daughter  to  a  title,  though  the  individual  attached 
to  it  be  a  rake  and  arou6.  This  is  a  lamentable  forgetful- 
ness  of  American  traditions — of  that  simplicity  of  the 
Puritan  fathers  and  that  conviction  that  "a  man's  a  man 
for  a'  that,"  that  we  have  tried  to  make  our  own.  Amer- 
icans would  smile  if  they  learnt  that  they  were  but 
imitating  the  worldly  Jews  of  Alexandria,  who  were  as 


anxious  to  be  hellenized  as  they  are  to  be  anglicized,  and 
who  tried  to  import  Greek  sports  into  Judea,  because 
'they  were  Greek,  you  know,''  just  as  they  themselves 
must  introduce  the  latest  from  Paris  and  London  for 
reasons  identical. 

I  do  not  think  I  quite  liked  the  adulation  given  to  Princess 
Eulalie.  The  Court  cereir.ony  hardly  coincided  with  "Jeffer- 
sonian  simplicity."  It  is  an  American  principle,  r.ot  stated, 
but  felt,  that  honor  is  individual,  and  not  inherited;  that 
greatness  does  not  necessarily  descend  to  the  third  and  fourth 
generation,  but  that  we  should  credit  a  man  for  that  which  he 
is,  and  not  for  that  which  his  father  was.  The  merit  of 
Columbus,  whatever  it  may  be — and  historians  are  not  quite 
decided — is  his,  and  not  that  of  his  great-great  grand-children. 
While  *o  load  with  flattering  attention  a  member  of  the  royal 
house  of  the  land  which  encouraged  his  expedition  for  merce- 
nary and  sordid  reasons,  is  such  a  roundabout  way.  to  say  the 
least,  to  honor  Columbus,  that  we  can  only  consider  it  as  an 
opportunity  seized  upon  to  indulge  in  royal  pomp  and  pa- 
geantry, for  which  some  Americans,  in  their  heart  of  hearts, 
hanker  more  fondlv  than  Israel  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt. 

Those  who  can  read  the  signs  of  the  times  have  probably 
noticed  many  significant  occurrences  of  late  that  must  fill  them 
with  disquiet  The  extradition  treaty  with  Russia  is  an  insult 
and  a  slight  to  the  very  freedom  for  which  the  fathers  strug- 
gled and  for  which  our  country  stands.  That  this  free  Repub- 
lic should  aid  and  abet  that  tyrannical  and  barbaric  despotism 
in  hunting  down  those  who  dare  to  believe  in  human  liberty 
and  right,  and  to  preach  it.  is  enough  to  summon  the 
shades  of  those  American  patriots  of  the  last  century,  who 
shed  their  blood  for  the  furtherance  of  those  very  principles. 

The  Chinese  Exclusion  law  is  another  menace  to  American 
doctrine.  Have  we  forgotten  our  traditions?  Are  not  Mon- 
golians as  human  as  negroes  ?  Or  are  we  onlv  to  advocate 
the  rights  ot  man  in  the  abstract  and  not  in  the  concrete? 


Even  in  the  discontent  expressed  against  the  attitude  of  the 
President  in  the  Hawaii  incident,  we  disclose  a  tendency 
towards  that  ambition  for  territorial  conquest  that  we  so 
severely  condemn  in  European  monarchies.  Any  element  of 
force,  or  coercion,  or  violence,  the  interference,  in  any  form, 
with  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  individuals  of  other  coun- 
tries, any  suspicion  of  dictation  or  bullying,  or  taking  unfair 
advantage  of  foreign  States  because  they  are  weak  and  small, 
are  so  many  kinds  of  treason  against  our  own  Declaration  of 
Independence.  We  can  afford  to  lose  the  Sandwich  Islands, 
but  we  cannot  afford  to  lose  our  integrity  and  self -respect  To 
add  to  the  area  of  our  sway  in  that  way  is  not  patriotism,  but 
the  precedent  of  forbearance  and  the  example  of  ideal  justice 
will  be  a  precious  inheritance  for  American  posterity- 
Religion  and  State  are  separate  to-day  in  the  United  States; 
they  are  distinct  institutions.  In  ancient  lands  patriotism  and 
piety  were  synonymous  terms;  and  just  as  the  war  cry  of  Judas 
Maccabeas  was  "  D'^N3  HDD3  "D,  so  that  of  the  ancient 
Romans  was  "Pro  aras  et  focis"  Uor  our  altars  and  our 
hearths).  For  this  reason,  the  suppression  of  Israel's  national- 
ity would  have  meant  the  suppression  of  Israel's  religion. 
Therefore,  the  victory  was  moral  rather  than  political,  and  its 
triumph  was  marked  by  a  temple  dedication,  «"O13n,  and  its 
celebration  to  this  day  is  remembered  in  a  religious  festival. 

So  far  as  Jews,  but  as  Americans,  it  is  our  pride  to-day  that 
all  our  municipal  and  State  institutions  are  secular.  Our  Con- 
stitution knows  no  theological  doctrine.  We  rejoice  that  our 
schools  are  unsectarian;  we  rightly  resented  the  attempt  of  the 
Protestant  Church  to  force  upon  the  Chicago  Exposition  the 
religious  recognition  of  its  Sabbath— just  as  we  are  now 
rightly  resenting  the  attempt  of  the  Catholic  Church  to  tamper 
with  tne  perfect  religious  liberty  of  our  public  schools.  Still, 
in  its  unsectarian  application,  religion  and  State  must  never  be 
divorced,  i.e.,  the  State  must  rest  on  the  foundation  of  moral- 
ity. In  this  sense  patriotism  is  religious  even  to-day.  Con- 


scientiousness  and  justice  must  ever  be  the  controlling  impulse 
in  all  national  action.  It  was  not  accident  that  led  the  greatest 
of  poets  to  express  man's  triple  duty  in  one  sentiment  — 
"Country,  God  and  Truth."  Let  us  remember,  then,  that 
citizenship  is  one  of  our  religious  duties,  and  class  it  among 
our  obligations  to  our  fellow. men.  For  only  then  can  we 
hope  to  realize  the  Eutopia  of  an  ideal  government  for  the 
people. 


RELIGION  AND  SACRIFICE- 


Religion  and  Sacrifice. 


A  large  part  of  the  Law  is  taken  up  with  the  descrip- 
tion of  sacrifices;  a  large  part  of  the  Prophets  is  occupied 
with  denouncing  them.  But,  although  the  prophets 
prepared  the  way  for  the  gradual  abolition  of  specific 
animal  sacrifice  and  we  to-day  have  accepted  their  con- 
clusions, still  sacrifice  of  some  sort  will  always  be 
demanded  by  religion. 

For  while  the  slaughter,  of  a  he-goat  and  the  burning 
of  a  ram  may  have  been  a  clumsy  and  inadequate  method 
for  man  to  express  the  yearning  of  his  soul  to  give  some 
return  to  the  unknown  Source  of  his  being,  either  in  the 
sense  of  gratitude,  or  justice,  or  even  fear,  still  it  re- 
sponded to  a  genuine  human  sentiment  that  has  certainly 
survived  this  particular  expression  of  it.  And  if  in 
response  to  the  question  put  by  the  author  of  the  n6th 
Psalm,  "What  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  His 
benefits  toward  me,"  our  answer  would  not  be  animal 
sacrifice,  we  none  the  less  feel  an  obligation  to  our 
Almighty  Father,  we  none  the  less  desire  to  discharge 
it. 

Indeed,  there  is  a  half  regret,  it  being  told  that  God 
needs  nothing  from  us,  that  we  can  do  nothing  for  the 
All-powerful  and  All-perfect,  and  that  He  only  asks 
that  we  look  after  each  other.  The  child  loves  to  be  of 
humble  use  to  its  mother,  and  she  will  often  create 
duties  to  give  it  the  pleasure  of  fulfilling  them. 

Yet  God  does  need  the  service  of  mankind.  We  are 
His  creation,  and  therefore  our  own  development  is  also 
the  development  of  His  work;  to  help  our  fellow-men  is 
to  help  God's  creatures.  He  has  placed  within  us  the 
power  of  unfolding  to  those  higher  glories  that  are 


humanity's  ideal,  but  the  mental  and  moral  growth  must 
be  left  to  ourselves.  God  can  go  no  further  than  endow 
us  with  the  capability,  and  if  we  dissipate  ii  the  failure 
is  His  as  well  as  ours.  In  this  sense  we  are  co-workers 
with  God;  in  this  sense  we  all  assist  God  to  bring  to 
beautiful  fruition  this  universe  of  His.  And  so  when 
Amos  asks,  "What  doth  God  require  of  thee,  nothing  but 
to  do  justice  and  love  kindness,"  this  is  no  figure  of 
speech.  He  does  require  our  justice  and  kindness.  It 
is  the  sacrifice  that  the  Infinite  asks  and  needs  of  the 
finite;  for  we  are  part  of  God  and  our  growth  is  His. 

So,  although  the  efficacy  of  sacrifice,  like  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  is  subjective,  affecting  our  own  nature  rather 
than  moving  divinity  to  action,  it  is  objective,  too,  reach- 
ing the  throne  of  the  highest.  For,  if  God  is  not  a  cold, 
mechanical  force,  but  a  living,  loving  Being,  then  surely 
the  aspirations  of  His  children  do  in  some  way  bring 
Him  nearer  to  us,  or  bring  us  nearer  to  Him. 

And  now  let  us  look  at  sacrifice  from  another  stand- 
point. Sacrifice  in  some  form  is  a  condition  of  hfe. 
Whatever  we  desire  we  must  make  some  sacrifice  for. 
In  that  sense  cost  is  sacrifice.  Accomplishment  costs 
irksome  study,  painful  discipline,  and  self-denial.  We 
pay  a  sacrifice  for  every  good,  aye,  and  for  that  matter 
for  every  evil.  If  we  only  knev\  the  ruinous  prices  that 
we  do  pay  for  evil  !  Says  Isaiah,  "Come  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  to  the  waters;  come,  buy,  and  eat  without 
money  and  without  price.''  This  is  only  half  true.  We 
pay  nothing  in  coin  for  the  waters  of  salvation,  for  the 
bread  of  life,  for  the  spiritual  food  that  nourishes  the 
soul,  to  which  this  quotation  of  course  refers;  but  we  do 
pay  for  them  in  honest  endeavor,  in  sturdy  effort,  in 
bitter  struggle,  in  heroic  self-suppression.  Are  these 
sacrifices  nothing;  are  they  not  the  very  hardest,  though 
not  to  be  intrinsically  measured  by  bullion  or  species 


V 

Are  they  not,  alas  !  beyond  the  moral  means  of  so  many 
of  us  that  we  cannot  ethically  afford  the  luxury  of  higher 
goodness?  Or  shall  I  say  we  will  not  afford,  closing  our 
pockets  or  rather  our  hearts,  and  declaring  that  the  price 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  is  too  high,  above  our  spiritual 
resources  ? 

It  is  true  that  we  often  use  the  word  sacrifice  only 
when  we  voluntary  give  up  more  than  we  need,  when 
we  unselfishly  renounce  what  is  rightfully  ours.  Yet 
even  under  this  disguise  you  will  find  concealed  the  same 
principle.  If  a  patriot  sacrifices  his  fortune  for  a  national 
emergency,  as  Robert  Morris  did  in  the  days  of  the 
American  Revolution,  he  is  paid  for  that  great  renuncia- 
tion by  the  exalted  gratification  of  having  effected  a  great 
salvation. Not  to  all  would  the  gratification  of  such  an  act 
of  patriotism  equal  the  gratification  of  possessing  the 
fortune;  but  to  the  man  who  is  willing  to  exchange  one 
for  the  other,  it  probably  would.  We  all  buy  the  things 
we  care  for,  and  we  do  not  all  care  for  the  same  things. 

We  must  each  decide  for  ourselves  what  sacrifices  we 
can  make,  what  we  should  make.  We  cannot  avoid 
making  a  sacrifice  in  some  form,  for,  if  we  sit  down  and 
do  nothing,  then  we  are  sacrificing  our  time  and  our 
opportunities. 

Now,  there  is  yet  another  phase  at  which  we  may  look 
at  sacrifice  that  also  touches  its  religious  application. 
Some  people  feel  that  they  have  no  right  to  be  too 
happy,  that  there  is  something  sinful  in  abundant  joy, 
that  we  ought  to  be  uncomfortable  at  times  and  right 
eouslv  miserable.  I  think  they  have  come  to  this  state 
of  mind  in  this  way  ;  because  duty  costs  struggle,  the 
inference  is  unconsciously  made  that  we  ought  always 
to  be  somewhat  in  the  condition  of  struggle,  even  where 
duty  is  not  directly  involved.  Or,  since  we  never  come 
up  even  to  our  own  conception  of  what  we  ought  to  do, 


then  to  atone  for  this  shortcoming  we  should  from  time 
to  time  impose  penance  upon  ourselves,  and  by  volun- 
tary suffering  now  and  then  make  up,  so  to  speak,  for 
our  deficiencies. 

This  superstition,  which  reached  its  climax  in  the  age 
of  mysticism,  led  to  those  many  phases  of  self-torture 
and  mortification  of  the  flesh  that  are  pitiful  to  contem- 
plate when  we  consider  the  wasted  energy  that  simply 
rebounded  on  itself.  Was  that  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to 
religion,  an  offering  pleasing  to  God?  Should  we  make 
sacrifice  an  end  in  itself?  Should  we  renounce  and 
should  we  struggle  for  the  discipline  that  it  gives  as 
exercise  in  self-control  and  independent  of  any  salutary 
end  to  be  directly  served  by  it?  To  this  I  answer  no  t 
There  is  so  much  worthy  work  to  be  done,  there  are  so 
many  helpful  causes  waiting  for  willing  hands,  the  world 
is  crying  so  persistently  to  every  "one  of  us  to  make  a 
small  sacrifice  to  eradicate  some  evil  or  to  extend  some 
good  that  it  seems  wickedly  wasteful  to  exercise  our 
self-control  in  vain  and'arbitrary  discipline.  A  teacher 
can  train  the  memory  of  his  pupils  by  making  them 
learn  long  lists  of  unconnected  words,  but  he  prefers  to 
train  their  memory  by  teaching  them  poetry,  thus  at  the 
same  time  cultivating  their  literary  capacity.  When  I 
read  of  Simon  Stylites  and  his  deluded  followers  stand- 
ing on  pillars  for  the  mere  merit  of  painful  self-suppres- 
sion, I  think  what  a  pity  that  those  same  physical  and 
moral  forces  were  not  used  in  a  helpful  instead  of  in  a 
useless  way.  Self-denial  that  is  practised  only  to  save 
one's  soul,  in  what  way  is  it  preferable  to  selfishness 
practised  to  save  one's  skin  ?  Should  we  think  of  set- 
ting machinery  in  motion  merely  to  work  itself  but  to 
manufacture  nothing?  God  has  implanted  all  these 
energies  within  us  to  be  applied  to  beneficent  ends,  not 
to  be  idly  experimented  with  to  test  our  physical  and 


moral  endurance.  Religion  asks  no  sacrifices  for  the 
sake  of  the  sacrifice,  but  merely  as  painful,  though  neces- 
sary, means  to  attain  noble  ends. 

Great  sacrifices  have  been  made  in  the  past  for  the 
cause  of  religion,  and  will,  we  hope,  be  made  in  the 
future,  for  to  be  staunch  to  its  principles  and  to  be  faith~ 
ful  to  its  duties  often  costs  much  wrestling  of  the  spirit- 
None  of  us  can  fulfil  the  Ten  Commandments  and  the 
"  Ethics  of  the  Fathers  "  without  having  to  offer  upon 
the  altar  of  duty  many  temptations,  passions,  unholy 
yearnings.  To  "  love  God  with  all  our  soul,  heart  and 
might,"  is  very  easy  to  say  night  and  morning  in  the 
Shemang)  but,  oh,  to  live  it  !  But,  again,  I  say,  religion 
asks  no  sacrifice  for  the  sacrifice  itself.  Do  not  suppose 
that  any  of  the  ceremonies  of  religion  are  simply  im- 
posed to  cultivate  self-denial,  though  they  may  occasion- 
ally and  indirectly  serve  that  end.  Dietary  laws  were 
never  intended  as  a  wholesome  check  on  epicurean 
indulgence,  though  they  may  have  helped  to  make  us  a 
temperate  people  ;  they  were  simply  priestly  institutions 
to  maintain  our  complete  separateness  and  sanctity; 
they  were  not  even  intended  as  sanitary  laws,  as  modern 
apologists  claim. 

The  Sabbath  was  never  originally  intended  as  a  sacri- 
fice, though  it  may  have  so  become  now  under  changed 
environment.  It  was  a  privilege — the  reward  of  rest 
that  followed  a  week  of  honest  labor — and  as  a  boon  it 
always  had  been  regarded.  Those  at  all  versed  in  our 
rabbinical  literature  will  know  what  a  blessing  the  Sab- 
bath was.  a  restful  oasis  in  a  dreary  waste  of  privations- 
a  surcease,  a  light  in  much  darkness  Sacrifice  !  Why, 
the  Sabbath  was  just  the  one  day  when  harmless  indul- 
gence was  encouraged.  And  half-starved  during  the 
week,  the  poorest  would  contrive  to  have  a  good  meaf 
on  Shabbas  •  and  gathered  around  the  white  cloth  sing. 


ing  Zeuriroth,  they  would  for  a  brief  space  forget  the  hard 
world  and  its  cruelty.  So  little  was  the  Sabbath  a  sacri- 
fice, that  without  its  soothing  balm  our  people  would 
have  surely  broken  down  under  the  strain  of  perse- 
cution. 

But  to-day  the  world  has  arranged  its  affairs  to  sui 
the  institutions  of  the  majority,  and  we,  being  so  small? 
have  been  left  out  of  consideration  We  are  not  theo- 
retically prevented  from  keeping  our  Sabbath  ;  if  we 
can,  we  may  ;  if  it  means  financial  ruin — well,  that's  our 
affair.  Now,  we  are  asking  ourselves  this  question  : 
Since  the  Sabbath  was  never  intended  as  a  hindrance  and 
sacrifice,  but  as  a  help  and  privilege,  and  has  only  so 
become  through  social  conditions,  does  the  spirit  of 
Judaism  demand  a  sacrifice  that  has  been  artificially 
created,  not  by  the  Law  of  Moses,  but  by  the  commerce 
of  the  world?  Some  have  answered  "  no,"  and  on  that 
argument  have  dropped  the  Sabbath  without  scruple. 
Some  have  declared,  "this  is  a  religious  institution  that 
it  is  our  duty  to  fulfil — if  it  be  easy,  well  and  good  ;  but 
if  it  be  difficult,  we  are  certainly  not  absolved.  Fidelity 
to  religion  is  tested  under  difficulties.  We  must  be  true 
to  its  behests  at  all  costs  ;  and  so  they  keep  the  Sabbath. 
Others  share  these  sentiments  to  an  extent  ;  they  break 
•the  Sabbath,  but  under  protest,  because  it  is  necessarv 
and  they  have  no  choice:  but  they  feel  from  time  to 
time  a  qualm  of  conscience,  and  look  forward  to  the  day 
when  they  will  be  able  to  observe  it.  Here  are  three 
degrees — it  is  not  for  me  to  decide  which  is  right  ;  the 
conscience  of  each  must  decide  for  himself.  Only  let 
me  warn  you  not  to  outlaw  too  easily  as  impossible 
"what  may  only  be  difficult,  and  not  to  overlook  the 
added  sweetness  and  added  consecration  that  a  Sabbath 
will  bring  for  which  we  make  a  weekly  sacrifice.  For 
here  we  touch  another  law  of  our  being  ;  for  example, 
our  love  for  our  children  grows  with  the  sacrifices  we 


make  for  them.  This  is  one  of  those  mysterious  com- 
pensations by  which  the  All-wise  Father  equalizes  many 
differences  and  transforms  our  trials  into  blessings.  The 
harder  we  labor,  the  sweeter  is  the  fruit,  and  Divine  jus- 
tice will  not  permit  us  to  enjoy  to  the  full  that  which 
becomes  ours,  but  which  we  have  not  worked  for. 

Therefore,  religion  to-day  asks  sacrifice  still.  For 
every  spiritual  gain  must  we  sacrifice  some  material 
gratification  ;  we  rise  in  grace,  but  only  on  the  stepping 
stones  of  our  dead  selves,  tearing  out  by  laceration  and 
silent  conflict  the  sensuous,  spiteful,  debased  self.  We 
unfold  by  pain  ;  this  is  a  principle  running  all  through 
creation.  But  the  pain  is  often  forgotten  in  the  victory, 
and  the  thought  of  that  victory  will  even  give  us  courage 
to  bear  the  pain. 

We  can  exalt  ourselves  to  such  a  degree  of  holy  ecstasy 
that  the  sense  of  pain  is  deadened,  lost  in  higher  emo- 
tions. Tiie  martyr  steps  forth  joyously  to  the  stake. 
He  feels  no  suffering  though  the  flames  encircle  him; 
the  spiritual  has  defied  and  conquered  the  physical, 
the  feeling  of  sacrifice  has  vanished  in  the  enthusiasm  of 
moral  triumph.  In  this  way  are  heroes  made  and  are 
imperishable  deeds  effected.  By  vigorous  discipline  and 
moral  progress  we  are  steadily  rising  higher  in  the 
capacity  to  sacrifice  without  suffering  or  regret.  What 
we  feel  as  a  painful  restraint  in  a  lower  stage  is  exercised 
mechanically  without  a  pang  in  a  higher  stage.  For 
instance,  I  may  safely  say  that  all  of  you  are  sufficiently 
schooled  in  honesty  to  feel  that  abstaining  from  stealing 
is  neither  a  restraint  nor  a  sacrifice,  though,  perhaps, 
not  sufficiently  schooled  in  the  truth  to  feel  no  occasional 
temptation  to  lie.  What  is  felt  as  sacrifice  by  one  who 
has  lived  a  wayward  life  accustomed  to  indulge  every 
whim  and  wish,  would  not  be  so  felt  by  him  who  has 
been  trained  in  a  life  of  strict  discipline,  who  has  learned 


IO 


to  obey  when  obedience  was  hard  and  to  keep  from  evil 
when  the  luring  temptation  was  very  strong. 

And,  therefore,  I  think  the  charity  we  do  should  be 
measured  to  our  credit  by  the  sacrifice  we  make  for  it, 
and  not  by  the  relief  effected.  The  element  of  charity 
rarely  enters  into  our  benevolent  gifts,  for  we  give  what 
we  do  not  feel,  what  in  no  way  affects  our  own  comforts. 
True  charity  begins  when  to  give  others  we  must  con- 
sciously deny  ourselves,  yielding  a  gratification  or  a 
luxury  to  aid  another.  Our  work  for  the  poor  deserves 
the  name  of  philanthropy  only  when  we  sacrifice  some 
of  the  time  we  would  give  to  amusement-seeking  or  idle 
dulce  far  niente,  in  going  to'  the  objects  of  our  gifts  and 
coming  in  personal  contact  with  them,  seeking  poverty 
in  its  repulsiveness  and  squalor,  so  that  it  must  be  felt. 
Charity  is  not  the  writing  of  checks  while  ensconced  in 
luxuriant  surroundings,  from  which  the  disagreeable  is 
studiously  excluded,  not  wishing  to  know  or  hear  of  the 
misery  it  is  to  relieve,  for  fear  it  might  give  a  "  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour."  Sometimes  in  the  so-called  charity 
we  give,  we  best  prove  our  cold-heartedness  and  our 
selfishness.  That,  too,  is  not  the  sacrifice  that  religion 
asks  for;  it  is  almost  as  contemptible  as  the  slaughtered 
bulls  and  the  burning  sheep  that  we  now  despise.  If 
our  ancestors  could  not  bribe  God  with  burnt  offerings 
in  lieu  of  repentance,  so  we  cannot  bribe  Him  with 
charity  doles  in  lieu  of  genuine  duty— the  sacrifice  of 
the  soul. 

"  For  Thou  desirest  not  (animal)  sacrifice,  else  would 
I  give  it;  Thou  delightest  not  in  burnt  offering.  The 
sacrifices  of  God  are  a  subdued  spirit.  A  broken  and 
penitent  heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise." 


TRUTH. 


Truth. 


We   owe    this  fable   to  the  Talmud;  — 

When  God  was  about  to  create  man  the  angels 
gathered  about  Him.  Some  said:  "Create  no  more,  the 
harmony  of  Heaven  will  be  disturbed  by  man." 

Said  the  angel  of  mercy;  "Oh  Father  create  man, 
make  him  in  Thine  own  image.  I  will  fill  his  heart  with 
pity  and  sympathy  toward  every  living  thing." 

The  angel  of  peace  responded,  "Create  him  not,  Thy 
peace  will  lie  disturb.  Bloodshed  will  follow  him.  War 
and  horror  will  blot  the  earth."  And  last  spoke  the  Angel 
of  Truth.  "Make  him  not,  Oh  God  of  Truth,  else  Thou 
wilt  send  falsehood  to  the  earth."  Then  came  the  Divine 
reply:  "Thou  O  Truth,  shall  go  to  earth  with  him  and 
yet  remain  a  denizen  of  heaven,  hovering  between  earth 
and  heaven,  connecting  link  between  the  two." 

There  are  two  conceptions  of  truth  that  are  only  dif- 
ferentiated by  being  called  respectively  —  "Truth"  and 
"The  Truth,"  which  distinction  is  hinted  in  the  fable 
just  related.  ''The  Truth,"  is  absolute  knowledge  and 
belongs  to  the  intellectual;  "Truth,"  is  veracity  and 
belongs  to  the  moral.  "The  Truth,"  is  the  possession  of 
God  only.  Kant,  greatest  of  philosophers  has  declared 
that  we  can  only  know  appearance  —  we  can  never  know 
realities.  We  can  never  be  sure  that  we  know  the  abso- 
lute truth  about  anything.  Or  we  may  be  sure  of  math- 
ematical truth,  but  not  of  metaphysical  truth,  that  is 
we  can  know  that  2  and  2  make  four,  but  we  cannot 
know  the  nature  of  the  soul.  Even  of  very  common- 
place things  we  do  not  know  the  essence. 

If  we  knew  the  secret  of  a  rose  we  might  know  the 
secret  of  God.  We  are  searching  for  the  eternal  truth, 
but  as  human  beings  we  can  never  hope  to  attain  it. 


Lessing  said:  It  is  better  that  \ve  should  have  to  search 
for  it  than  that  we  should  possess  it.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  choice  is  not  given  us  and  Lessing  was  right  to 
teach  us  to  make  the  best  of  what  we  have  and  not  to 
sigh  for  the  impossible. 

But  Truth  in  its  second  signification,  which  is  also  its 
popular  and  practical  meaning,  depends  not  on  scienti- 
fic investigation  but  on  human  character.  Here  is  the 
distinction  between  truth  as  knowledge  and  truth  as 
moral  quality — between  knowing  the  truth  and  being 
truthful.  Truth  is  more  than  language.  To  be  perfect- 
ly truthful,  our  words  must  express  our  actual  thought, 
our  actions  must  harmonize  with  our  motives.  Our 
mode  of  life  must  correspond  to  our  circumstances, 
our  attitude  must  convey  our  feelings.  We  must  show 
ourselves  to  be  what  we  are.  Then  only  are  we  truthful. 
If  I  contribute  to  an  orphan  asylum,  not  to  help  the 
institution,  but  in  order  to  be  considered  charitable  or 
to  become  popular,  that  is  in  a  measure  untruthful.  To 
brush  my  eyes  with  my  hands  as  tho'  weeping  while 
secretly  rejoicing,  to  let  the  externals  of  my  home  con- 
vey an  idea  of  wealth  I  do  not  possess,  to  talk  of  authors 
of  whom  I  only  know  the  names,  as  though  I  were  well 
versed  in  their  works,  to  remain  silent  when  I  know  that 
my  silence  will  be  misinterpreted,  these  are  all  forms  of 
lying.  For  they  are  intended  to  deceive  and  what  is 
lying  but  deception.  Therefore  humbug,  pretension} 
hypocrisy,  even  certain  forms  of  diplomacy,  are  all 
enemies  of  truth. 

I  say  falsehood  is  not  merely  a  question  of  language. 
The  out-and-out  falsehood  is  the  most  innocent  form 
of  lying,  if  any  form  can  be  called  innocent.  I  will  be 
more  ready  to  excuse  David  who  tells  Achish,  he  is  fight- 
ing against  the  men  of  Judah,  when  he  is  making  war 
against  the  Amalekites — a  distinct  untruth,  than  I  would 


excuse  the  brothers  of  Joseph  who  came  to  Jacob  with 
the  blood  stained  coat  and  asked  him:  "Is  this  your 
son's?"  when  they  knew  it;  they  had  stripped  it  from  the 
boy  and  they  had  stained  it  to  give  a  false  clue.  The 
question  was  asked  purposely  to  leave  the  impression  of 
their  innocence. 

''A  lie   that   is  half   a  truth  is   ever   the   blackest   of  lies. 

A  lie  which  is  afl  a  lie  may  be  met  and  fought  with  out-right. 

But  a  lie  which  is  partly  true  is  a  harder  matter  to  fight.'' 

The  worst  enemies  of  the  Jews  are  not  those  who  de- 
liberately fabricate  malicious  falsehoods  against  them, 
They  can  be  answered.  We  have  been  able  to  expose 
the  absurdity  of  the  charge  about  using  Christian 
blood  to  make  Passover  cakes.  But  when  the 
anti-Semites  ascribe  to  the  Russian  Jews  alone,  those 
evils  that  are  common  to  all  Russians,  but  which  the 
Jews  in  Russia  actually  possess  in  a  lesser  degree  as 
proved  by  the  statistics  of  Mr.  Arnold  White,  they  utter 
against  them  a  slander  which  from  its  tincture  of  truth 
it  is  very  hard  for  us  to  refute  in  a  way  to  convince  the 
average  cursory  reader. 

We  are  often  lying  even  when  we  flatter  ourselves  we 
are  righteously  exact.  I  have  seen  the  truth  made  false 
by  change  of  emphasis;  nor  is  it  sufficient  to  stand 
within  the  letter  of  precision.  We  may  state 
nothing  but  what  is  literally  true,  and  yet  if  we 
intend  a  false  conclusion  to  be  inferred,  there  is  no  virtue 
in  our  cunning.  Truth  is  not  of  the  letter  but  of  the 
spirit.  Even  deceiving  ourselves  we  cannot  deceive 
God. 

Again,  if  we  separate  a  fact  from  its  relation  to  other 
facts,  and  state  it  alone  so  that  it  leaves  a  different  im- 
pression from  what  would  be  conveyed  if  left  in  the 
context,  the  falsehood  is  clever  perhaps,  but  the  smart- 
ness does  not  lessen  the  offence,  and  the  pity  is  that  our 


ingenuity  is  not  given  to  a  worthier  cause.  It  is  only 
the  poorer  type  of  Christian  who  takes  an  isolated  verse 
from  the  Psalms  or  the  Prophets,  so  that  it  may  seem 
to  prove  his  favorite  doctrine.  The  genuine  Christian 
despises  such  methods  and  refuses  to  score  a  point  by  a 
pious  fraud.  He  who,  anxious  to  prove  a  particular 
theory  of  labor  compares,  let  us  say,  low  wages  in 
Europe  with  high  wages  in  America,  but  deliberately 
omits  to  state  the  lower  cost  of  rent  and  clothing  that 
partly  counterbalances  the  difference,  might  just  as  well 
give  false  figures  at  once.  Either  the  whole  truth  or 
none.  A  half  truth  is  a  misnomer:  there  is  no  such  thing. 
Now  one  may  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  simply 
with  the  brutal  intention  of  wounding  and  giving  pain. 
Is  there  virtue  in  that  truth?  Not  a  whit.  There  is  no 
moral  difference  between  that  truth  and  a  fasehood 
uttered  for  the  same  object.  It  is  only  used  to  serve  the 
ends  of  spite.  In  the  realm  of  morals,  motive  is  every- 
thing. A  fact  stated  deserves  not  the  merit  of  truthful- 
ness, unless  stated  for  the  sake  of  truth.  For  mark  you, 
we  never  apply  the  epithet  truthful,  unless  it  be  a  test 
case,  where  a  sacrifice,  however  slight,  is  made  for  the 

cause  of  truth. 

"To  fight  for  truth  is  noble, 

When  we  share  her  humble  crust; 
Not  when  her  cause  has  triumphed, 
And  it's  profitable  to  be  just." 

I  am  going  to  carry  my  argument  one  point  further, 
and  say  that  he  who  does  not  wish  to  know  the  truth,  in 
case  it  may  be  unpalatable,  but  prefers  to  be  left  in  com- 
fortable error  under  the  delusion  that  it  is  truth,  is  per. 
haps  a  greater  enemy  of  truth  than  the  deliberate  denier. 
If  you  fancy  you  are  doing  your  duty,  but  retrain  from 
investigating  too  minutely  for  fear  you  might  find  out 
that  you  are  not  doing  your  duty,  you  are  flirting  with 
falsehood  and  will  learn  to  like  her  too  well.  Somepeo 


39 

pie  grow  angry  because  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
disagreeable  actuality.  Leading  snug  lives  that  they 
want  to  make  believe  are  good  lives,  they  re»ard  as 
their  enemy  he  who  shows  that  they  are  selfish  lives. 
Many  again  are  afraid  of  the  truth  and  refuse  to  learn 
it.  "My  creed  may  be  all  wrong,  but  don't  tell  me,  don't 
show  me  the  weak  points,  please  leave  me  in  my  ignor- 
ance, it  is  so  blissful.  Don't  take  away  my  faith."  Oh 
cowards,  what  must  be  your  faith,  if  you  cannot  trust 
God  enough  to  look  truth  squarely  in  the  face.  It  may 
be  disappointing  at  first;  many  fond  delusions  have  to 
go,  many  pretty  and  petty  vanities  and  false  imaginings, 
but  after  you  have  adjusted  yourselves  to  the  new  truth 
you  will  learn  to  love  it  and  be  thankful  that  God  has 
shown  you  more  light.  Of  course  in  the  education  of 
youth  there  is  a  certain  order  or  sequence  in  which 
scientific  truth  should  be  imparted.  An  untimely  dis- 
closure may  disturb  the  intellectual  balance  and  perhaps 
do  harm.  There  are  facts  and  books  for  every  age. 

I  suppose  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  are  so  fond  of 
compromise  is  that  we  ourselves  are  compromises  of 
good  and  evil.  ''To  be  human  is  to  be  imperfect,"  is  a 
Latin  proverb.  So  we  seem  to  have  a  sneaking  fondness 
for  imperfection.  We  don't  like  to  swallow  our  truth 
neat — too  strong,  perhaps;  we  love  to  tincture  our  truth 
with  falsehood,  and  declare  that  the  adulteration  is  'a 
improvement.  Alloy  hardens  the  gold,  it  lasts  longer 
and  is  much  more  practical  for  use;  so,  to  be  success- 
ful, we  think  we  must  be  practical  in  that  questionable 
sense  and  judiciously  use  a  little  alloy  of  falsehood  to 
make  our  truths  reach  further.  The  incident  of  yester- 
day told  among  yoiu  friends  sounds  infinitely  better 
touched  witha  little  fiction.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil  a 
good  story  for  fear  of  a  little  exaggeration.  And  just  for 
that  apparently  harmless  reason,  we  are  compelled  to 


8 


discredit  half  the  world's  history.  Oh,  if  the  ancients  had 
but  loved  the  truth,  how  precious  the  exact  knowledge 
would  be  to  posterity.  What  a  dreadful  revenge  they 
have  taken  upon  themselves,  giving  to  us  distorted  cari- 
catures, when  we  might  have  had  their  life-like  photo- 
graphs. 

It  is  our  human  preference  for  the  half  truth  to  the 
whole  truth  that  compels  us  to  postpone  the  reign  of 
truth  to  that  distant  millenium  to  which  we  conveniently 
assign  all  difficult  attainment.  There  is  not  much  choice 
between  people  of  the  Louis  XV  type  who  say  "after  me 
the  world  may  go  to  smash,"  and  that  other  type,  that 
says,  ''when  I  am  dead  and  gone  the  world  may  become 
as  perfect  as  it  please."  We  are  perpetually  saying  that 
truth  will  prevail,  not  that  it  does  prevail.  We  cry  that, 
time  is  its  best  friend,  by  which  we  mean  that  we  are  not 
and  that  we  do  not  propose  to  help  the  truth,  but  will 
let  it  gradually  extricate  itself  from  the  mass  of  lies  with 
which  we  try  to  smother  it,  as  best  it  may.  We  piously 
quote  a  proverb  "truth  crushed  to  earth  will  rise  again;" 
but  why  need  it  be  crushed  to  earth?  Why  do  we  give 
it  a  knock  dovrn  blow  just  because  it  is  able  to  pick  itself 
up  again?  Why  do  we  love  falsehood  and  keep  perpetu- 
ally in  its  bad  companionship,  knowing  it  will  corrupt 
our  morals? 

In  brief  why  do  we  lie?  Some  tell  untruths  out  of 
pure  wantonness;  but  to  state  what  is  not  the  fact  for  the 
mere  pleasure  of  fooling  other  people,  is  only  indulged 
in  by  children  or  by  very  silly,  thoughtless  persons.  It 
can  be  easily  uprooted  by  early  impressing  upon  our 
children  the  sanctity  of  truth,  for  truth's  sake.  The  par- 
ent must  not  decide  the  gravity  of  the  falsehood  by  its 
consequence,  but  must  rebuke  an  untruth  that  is  merely 
trivial  and  of  no  account,  as  severely  as  an  untruth  that 
brings  about  a  mishap,  otherwise  the  child  will  learn  to 


discriminate  between  untruths  and  untruths,  and  will 
consider  those  harmless  that  do  not  happen  to  turn  out 
unfortunately.  You  must  teach  your  children  to  love 
truth  itself,  as  an  end  in  itself  as  distinct  from  its  special 
application  to  any  incident.  Accustom  them  to  habits 
of  accuracy,  by  setting  high  value  upon  exactness.  And 
if  the  child  delightedly  tells  you  it  saw  fifty  lions  at 
the  show,  while  you  know  there  were  not  ten, 
and  the  child  is  made  to  understand  that  its  misstate- 
ment  has  completely  spoilt  your  interest  in  the  narrative, 
that  the  incident  is  ignored  and  forgotten  in  your  dis- 
pleasure at  the  exaggeration,—  the  child  mortified,  and 
ashamed,  will  not  forget  the  lesson  easily. 

So  much  for  the  wanton  falsehood.  But  lying,  delib- 
erate and  presumptuous,  what  is  its  cause  and  purpose? 
Nothing  more  than  deception  with  the  object  of  unfair 
advantage.  The  prisoner  denies  his  guilt  in  order  not  to 
suffer  its  consequence.  He  who  misrepresents  in  bus- 
iness, does  so  to  make  money;  he  who  conceals  his 
opinions  hopes  thereby  to  gain  a  post  or  to  defeat  an 
enemy.  We  all  deny  our  failing  and  discrepancies,  that 
the  world  may  think  we  are  better  than  we  are.  We  are 
more  anxious  to  make  a  good  impression  than  a  true 
impression,  and  so  we  present  our  best  side  as  though  it 
were  our  only  side,  and  hide  our  worst  side  to  make 
believe  that  it  does  not  exist  at  all.  Some  people  are 
perpetually  going  about  exaggerating  to  whomsoever 
they  meet,  the  creditable  things  they  do,  plausibly 
smoothing  over  the  discreditable  things,  and  so  persist- 
ing on  their  excellence  that  gradually  people  believe 
them,  at  least  for  a  time.  Even  they,  learn  to  believe  the 
good  things  they  repeat  of  themselves  perpetually.  Thus 
fictitious  character  is  created  by  violating  truth  in  the 
interest  of  self.  So  all  untruth  is  but  to  gain  an  unfair 
advantage.  Therefore  if  we  discipline  ourselves  to 


IO 

accept  only  what  is  perfectly  just  and  are  resigned  to 
submit  to  what  is  perfectly  just, and  are  willing  to  grant 
to  others  what  is  perfectly  just — falsehood  will  be  un- 
necessary. 

Remember  truth  is  the  foundation  of  confidence  and 
trust.  Placed  in  this  world  mutually  dependent  on  each 
other  we  have  to  trust  each  other  in  certain  things.  We 
can't  read  each  other's  souls;  we  can't  watch  each  other's 
every  deed;  we  cannot  act  as  detectives  on  our  fellow- 
men,  even  if  we  did  nothing  but  that.  God  has  intended 
that  we  should  trust  each  other,  to  trust  and  be  trusted 
we  must  first  be  true  to  each  other  We  can  be  true  to 
our  fellowmen  only  by  being  true  to  ourselves.  "To 
thine  own  self  be  true,  and  it  does  follow,  as  the  night 
the  day.  that  thou  canst  not  be  false  to  any  man."  Let 
the  world  know  you  as  you  are.  If  you  are  not  ashamed 
of  your  real  self — why  try  to  conceal  it  ?  Don't  get  into 
the  habit  of  supposing  that  it  is  necessary  to  conceal  so 
much.  Let  us  all  be  more  frank  and  more  sincere.  We 
need  not  walk  abroad  with  domino  and  mask — society  is 
not  a  conspiracy,  it  is  a  brotherhood. 

Finally  we  deceive  none  but  ourselves,  all  the  schem- 
ing and  the  subterfuge  and  the  misrepresentation  fails 
to  conceal  the  actual  individual  from  a  keen-eyed  world. 
Occasionally  the  mask  shifts  and  people  catch  sight  of 
the  face  behind  it.  or  we  get  tired  of  holding  a  screen 
perpetually  before  us  and  drop  it  now  and  then,  in  an 
angry  word,  in  an  impulse,  in  a  moment  of  confidential 
confession —and  then  all  the  years  of  pretence  go  for 
nothing.  Others  from  whom  we  are  trying  to  conceal 
our  true  character  actually  know  us  better  than  we  know 
ourselves. 

Oh, the  wasted  energy  and  labor  to  set  right  the  world's 
falsehoods  that  might  be  given  to  good  and  upbuilding 
work  !  In  the  Talmudic  fable,  at  the  opening  of  this 
lecture,  we  were  told  that  the  Angel  of  Truth  flitted 
between  earth  and  heaven.  I  fear  that  we  give  her  but 
an  inhospitable  reception  here — either  asking  her  to 
meet  at  our  table  her  natural  opponents,  or  else  slamming 
the  door  in  her  face.  She  might  return  to  the  heavens, 
never  to  come  back  to  us;  but  she  has  a  few  staunch 
friends  here  on  earth,  and,  for  the  sake  of  the  ten 
righteous,  she  will  save  the  whole  world. 


JOB— I 


Jab 


I. 

Although  the  Bible  has  been  translated  into  every 
spoken  tongue,  some  of  its  books  are  as  unread  and  a 
unknown  as  though  they  had  remained  in  the  original 
Hebrew.  This  is  not  entirely  the  fault  of  the  people. 
For  there  are  two  kinds  of  translation — the  translation 
of  language  and  the  translation  of  thought.  There  are 
some  chapters  of  some  Bible  books  where  the  references, 
the  ideas  and  the  poetic  symbols  are  so  obscure  as  not 
only  to  be  unintelligible  even  in  the  translation,  but 
where  the  vernacular  has  so  misinterpreted  the  text  in 
sheer  despair  of  its  meaning  that  to  understand  the  trans- 
lation is  to  misunderstand  the  original. 

The  Book  of  Job  is  probably  the  most  difficult  to 
comprehend  of  all  the  books  of  the  Bible.  Even  had  it 
reached  us  in  the  exact  form  in  which  its  author  gave  it, 
even  had  no  passages  fallen  away  and  no  passages  been 
added  to  it,  and  no  meddlesome  scribe  had  tampered 
with  the  text,  its  language  would  still  be  full  of  puzzles. 
By  a  strange  perversion,  the  verse  that  has  been  most 
erroneously  translated  is  unfortunately  the  most  popular 
quotation  from  Job,  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth," 
&c.,and  according  as  it  be  translated  in  each  of  three  ways 
may  we  infer  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
body,  or  as  against  th'at  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  or  as  against  both  complete  silence  on  the 
doctrine  of  future  life. 

With  regard  to  the  book  in  general,  the  critics  are 
divided  as  to  whether  it  be  a  sober  history  or  a 
parable.  The  best  thinkers  accept  the  latter  view,  which 
by  the  way  is  not  exclusively  modern.  There  are  other 
books  in  the  Bible,  which  are  much  better  understood  as 
allegories,  written  to  impress  important  lessons,  than  as 


actual  occurences.  "Jonah  "  and  "  Daniel  "  are  of  this 
character.  "Jonah, "for  example,  was  written  to  teach 
that  God  was  not  local  nor  was  His  love  confined  to  one 
people;  He  was  universal  and  Jonah  could  not  escape 
from  Him  even  though  he  took  ship  to  Tarshish;  He 
cared  for  all  mankind  and  would  save  Nineveh  as  readily 
as  Israel.  "  Daniel  "  was  written  at  the  time  of  the 
Maccabean  war  to  encourage  the  patriots,  by  giving 
inspiring  pictures  of  brave  fidelity,  and  showing  how 
Providence  ever  protecteth  the  innocent. 

These  books  approach  nearest  to  a  certain  high  kind 
of  fiction  of  the  present  day,  written  to  further  needed 
reforms — such  as  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  "  Robert  Els- 
mere,"  "  Looking  Backward/'  The  comparison  is  only 
partial  and  not  quite  just  to  the  Hebrew  writers.  For 
their  books  were  inspired  only  by  the  earnest  and  reli- 
gious purpose  of  bringing  instruction  and  comfort  to 
their  people,  unmixed  with  any  lower  motives  of  fame 
or  gain  or  entertainment.  In  whatever  the  ancient  Jew 
did,  he  was  always  in  earnest.  The  narrative  form  of 
writing  for  education  was  much  more  usual  in  the  days 
when  the  expression  of  abstract  thought  was  hardly 
developed  in  language,  than  now  Now,  the  story  is 
primarily  the  vehicle  for  amusement  and  diversion. 
And  he  who  has  a  very  serious  message  to  deliver  shrinks 
from  presenting  it  as  a  play  or  a  novel,  fearing  that  this 
lighter  form  may  detract  from  its  high  purpose.  Even 
Goethe's  Faust,  whose  "Prologue  in  Heaven"  is  directly 
taken  from  the  Book  of  Job,  loses  in  earnestness  because 
of  its  form. 

What  was  the  object  of  the  Book  of  Job  ?  We  are 
always  aided  in  finding  out  the  intended  motive  of  a 
book  by  looking  into  the  condition  of  the  times  in  which 
it  is  written.  Now  that  is  just  one  of  the  things  that 
the  author  has  so  cleverly  disguised.  In  order  not  to  be 


hampered  by  local  conditions,  he  pictures  his  story  in 
the  patriarchal  age;  he  even  makes  his  hero  Job  an  Arab 
Sheik  instead  of  an  Israelite,  which  mislead  the  early 
commentators  into  supposing  the  book  might  have  been 
written  by  Moses;  but  mention  of  the  gold  of  Ophir 
proves  that  it  could  not  have  been  written  earlier  than 
the  time  of  Solomon.  Evvald  thinks  it  was  written  in 
the  days  of  Jeremiah,  but  the  most  logical  decision  is 
that  it  was  written  still  later,  during  the  Babylonian  Exile, 
that  fruitful  period  of  spiritual  growth  and  literary 
activity.  If  Job  is  to  typify  Israel,  as  some  think,  the 
picture  certainly  fits  the  condition  of  this  time.  For 
Job  is  a  righteous  man  upon  whom  every  form  of  afflic- 
tion has  nevertheless  fallen;  while  many  wicked  people 
triumph,  he  who  had  "strengthened  weak  hands  and 
had  been  eyes  to  the  blind,"  is  visited  by  all  the  woes 
known  to  suffering  humanity.  Israel, — who  if  not  as 
perfect  as  this  type,  led  at  least  more  moral  lives  than 
the  people  around  them, — had  to  experience  defeat, 
slaughter,  humiliation,  denationalization  and  exile. 

The  sad  straits  of  their  people  must  have  been  a  source 
of  painful  thought  to  the  "  wise  men,"  and  a  severe  test 
of  faith  in  God.  The  old  teaching  had  always  been  that 
goodness  was  rewarded  in  this  world  by  material  pros- 
perity and  that  evil  was  immediately  or  eventually 
punished  by  adversity.  The  Psalms  and  prophets  are 
full  of  this  teaching  and  it  pervades,  I  might  almost  say 
saturates,  every  page  of  the  Bible.  No  people  taught 
this  lesson  so  persistently  as  the  Hebrews,  for  intensely 
convinced  of  the  moral  government  of  God,  they  sought, 
and  thought  they  saw  in  every  external  condition  a 
distinct  recompense  for  good  or  retribution  for  wrong. 
The  prophets  connected  every  defeat  of  Israel  with  every 
idolatry  of  Israel  as  direct  cause  and  effect.  To  quote 
but  one  of  the  Psalms  as  example— the  92nd — "When  the 


+  r 

6 


workers  of  iniquity  flourish  it  is  that  they  shall  be  de- 
stroyed for  ever,  but  the  righteous  shall  flourish  like  the 
palm-tree—to  show  that  the  Eternal  is  just." 

Either  then  God  is  unjust  in  the  uneven  way  in  which 
prosperity  and  virtue  are  proportioned  to  each  other  in 
human  experience,  or  that  theory  of  God's  providence  is 
only  a  partial  truth.  It  is  the  latter  conclusion  that  is 
the  chief  lesson  the  author  wishes  to  convey.  He  seems 
to  have  been  a  man  of  great  learning,  possessed  of  all 
the  knowledge  of  his  age.  He  knows  all  lands  and  all 
climates.  He  is  versed  in  mythology,  in  Chaldean 
philosophy,  in  astronomy,  and  is  therefore  well  able 
from  his  travels  and  experience  to  handle  so  vast  a 
theme.  And  now  let  us  take  up  the  story  in  full. 

There  was  a  man  in  the  land  of  Uz  named  Job,  who 
feared  God  and  eschewed  evil.  He  had  seven  sons  and 
three  daughters,  and  was  rich  in  the  kind  of  wealth  that 
was  current  in  patriarchal  times,  for  he  had  thousands 
of  sheep  and  camels,  and  oxen  and  asses  in  abundance. 
So  scrupulous  was  he,  that  whenever  his  sons  had  a 
birthday  party,  Job  would  sanctify  them  after  the  feast, 
for  fear  that  in  the  revelry  they  may  have  indulged  in 
levity  and  forgotten  themselves. 

After  this  general  description  the  scene  is  changed  to 
Heaven.  It  is  unnecessary  to  state  that  there  is  no  more 
intended  reality  in  this  picture  of  God  with  His  angels 
about  Him,  holding  a  sort  of  court  like  an  earthly  king 
than  many  such  pictures  in  the  Midrash  of  the  same 
character.  One  day,  the  angels  presented  themselves,  as 
was  their  periodic  custom,  and  with  them  came  Satan. 
Satan  was  a  sort  of  spirit-detective,  who  traversed  the 
earth  to  investigate  all  cases  of  evil  His  part  is  always 
represented  as  the  accuser,  never  the  defender  of  man — 
the  prosecuting  attorney  in  the  heavenly  court  of  justice. 
Where  kinder  spirits  would  see  worthiness  he  would 


discover  a  sinister  motive.  At  times  he  is  the  tempter 
luring  man  to  sin,  not  necessarily  for  fiendish  gratification 
but  to  test  his  moral  powers;  for  the  exercise  of  resist- 
ence  that  temptation  calls  into  play,  strengthens  a 
really  good  man  in  his  righteousness.  We  may  presume 
from  the  context  that  on  each  visit  he  rendered  a  report 
of  past  investigation  and  was  given  one  or  more  cases 
to  look  up. 

"  Hast  thou  considered  my  servant  Job,"  asks  the 
Eternal,  "there's  an  upright  and  perfect  man,  you  can 
find  no  blemish  in  him."  "Oh  yes, "says  Satan  the  cynic, 
"Does  Job  fear  God  for  naught;  see  how  he  is  protected 
and  blessed,  touch  his  possessions  and  he  would  renounce 
You  to  Your  face."  "You  may  put  him  to  the  test," 
replies  the  Eternal,  "deprive  him  of  all  he  has,  but  don't 
touch  his  person." 

So  Satan  begins  his  trial  of  Job.  One  day  a  messenger 
hurried  into  Job's  presence  and  said  :  "  while  we  were 
ploughing,  the  Sabeans  fell  upon  us,  took  oxen  and 
asses  and  killed  the  servants,  and  I  alone  am  left  to  tell 
the  tale."  Then  another  messenger  appeared  and  said  : 
"a  fire  has  burned  all  your  sheep  and  shepherds  and  I 
alone  am  left  to  tell  the  tale."  While  he  was  yet  speak- 
ing came  another,  who  reported  that  the  Chaldeans  in 
three  bands  swooped  down  on  the  camels  with  their 
attendants,  and  that  he  alone  had  escaped.  But  the 
bearer  of  the  most  awful  tidings  came  last."  Thy  children 
were  feasting  when  there  came  a  great  whirlwind  that 
took  the  house  by  its  four  corners  and  killed  them  all, 
and  I  alone  am  left  to  tell  the  tale."  Job  arose  and  rent 
his  garments,  yet  fell  upon  his  knees  and  worshiped, 
•'The  Lord  gave,  the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Again  came  Satan  at  the  heavenly  court.  "Art  thou 
now  satisfied  with  the  integrity  of  my  servant  Job?"  But 


8 


the  incredulous  Satan  was  not  yet  satisfied,  "His  body  is 
yet  untouched;  touch  his  bone  and  his  flesh  and  he  will 
renounce  Thee  yet."  We  are  a  little  surprised  that  the 
author  of  this  book  should  have  made  physical  suffering 
harder  to  be  borne  than  mental,  since  the  infliction  of 
pain  is  represented  as  more  severe  than  the  loss  of 
children. 

However  that  may  be.  Job  is  now  smitten  \vith  a  kind 
of  leprosy,  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  to  the  crown  of  his 
head.  He  sat  there  in  the  ashes  and  scraped  himself 
with  a  potsherd,  a  pitable  object  of  woe.  Now  in  all 
these  afflictions,  his  wife  had  been  spared  to  him,  and 
some  one  has  humorously  said  that  this  was  part  of  his 
affliction,  for  she  seems  to  have  been  a  shrew.  "  Dost 
thou  still  hold  fast  to  thine  integrity  "  said  she,  perhaps 
spitefully,  "renounce  God  and  die."  He  answered  un- 
moved, "thou  speakest  as  an  impious  woman  would 
speak.  What  !  shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of 
God  and  not  receive  the  evil  ?"  Job  had  withstood  the 
second  test. 

Three  friends  now  came  to  comfort  him,  Eliphaz, 
Bildad  and  Zophar.  They  rent  their  garments  and  sat 
beside  him  in  sympathetic  silence.  In  deep  grief  we  are 
comforted  by  the  presence  of  our  friends  more  than  by 
their  words.  Their  arrival  closes  the  prose  part  of  the 
story.  Now  begins  the  poem — that  marvelous  discussion 
between  Job  and  his  friends  on  the  relation  of  evil  to 
punishment — the  most  splendid  creation  of  Hebrew 
poetry  and  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  literature  in  any 
ancient  or  modern  language.  We  can  but  give  you  a 
few  picked  fragments. 

After  the  long  awful  silence,  Job  opened  his  mouth 
and  poured  forth  his  tale  of  misery  : 

"  May  the  day  perish  wherein  I  was  born, 

Let  it  be  darkness,  let  God  not  regard  it  from  above. 

Let  it  be  blotted  from  the  calendar. — 

Why  died  I  not  at  birth  ? 

Why  was  I  not  one  of  those  infants  which  never  see  the  light. 

Why  could  I  not  be  in  the  grave  where  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest  ? 


o  / 
9 


The  great  and  the  small  are  alike  there, 
And  the  ^ervant  is  free  from  the  taskmaster. 
Why  is  light  given  to  a  man  whose  way  is  hid, 
And  whom  God  hath  hedged  in?1' 

This  plaint  provokes  reply  from  his  friends.  The 
arguments  of  each  friend  are  typical  of  the  old  theolog- 
ical theories  which  the  author  wishes  to  contravert. 

With  a  rare  fairness  the  author  presents  these  views 
he  would  reject  in  their  most  beautiful  and  convincing 
form. 

ELIPHAZ. 

"  If  one  attempt  to  talk  with  thee.  wilt  thou  be  grieved? 

Thou  hast  instructed  many,  thou  hast  strengthened  weak  hands. 

Thy  word*  have  upholden  the  fallen. 

But  now,  that  such  trouble  has  come  to  thee,  thou  faintest. 

(Though  thou  didst  find  excellent  arguments  to  explain  the  grief 
of  others), 

Is  not  thy  fear  of  God,  thy  confidence? 

Whoever  perished  being  innocent,  in  your  remembrance 

Wherever  were  the  upright  cut  off? 

According  to  my  experience,  those  who  plow  iniquity 

And  sow  mischief,  reap  the  same. 

By  the  breath  of  God  they  perish. — 

In  anight  vision,  I  heard  these  words: 

Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God, 

Shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Maker? 

Affliction  cometh  not  forth  from  the  dust — (out  of  nothing). 

As  for  me.  I  would  seek  God, 

And  unto  Him  would  I  commit  my  cause. 

Happy  should  be  the  man  whom  God  reproveth, 

Therefore  despise  not  the  chastening  of  the  Almighty. — 

We  have  searched  this  thing  out,  and  it  is  so 

Hear  it,  and  know  it  is  for  your  good.'' 

We  can  understand  how  such  a  patronising  speech,  full 
of  the  old  platitudes,  would  irritate  the  suffering  Job 
and  make  his  pains  almost  unbearable.  Using  his  own 
past  teachings  against  him  too,  and  subtly  implying,  in 
accordance  with  the  old  belief,  that  since  he  is  afflicted, 
he  must  have  sinned.  In  anguish  of  pain  he  burst  out  : 

JOB. 

"Oh  that  my  calamity  were  weighed  in  the  balance 

It  would  be  heavier  than  the  sand  of  the  sea. 

Therefore  have  my  words  been  rash, 

For  the  arrows  of  the  Almighty  are  within  me. 

Would  that  it  wjuld  please  God  to  kill  me  outright. 


10 


Then  I  would  be  at  peace. 

1  have  not  denied  the  words  ot  the  Holy  One. — 

To  a  man  that  is  ready  to  faint,  a  friend  should  show  kindness 

But  \ou  have  dealt  as  deceitfully  as  a  brook. 

Did  I  ask  you  to  redeem  me  from  the  hand  of  the  oppressor? 

Teach  me  to  understand  wherein  I  have  erred? 

How  forcible  are  your  virtuous  words! 

But  what  does  your  arguing  prove? 

Now  look  at  me,  for  surely  I  shall  not  lie  to  your  face. 

Mv  cause  is  righteous. 

Cannot  my  sense  discern  what  is  wrong? 

I  "will  speak  in  the  anguish  of  my  spirit 

1  will  complain  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul. 

And  then  to  scare  me  with  that  vision  of  youi"s. 

1  loathe  my  life;  let  me  alone;  my  days  are  vanity." 

Then  he  turns  to  God  and  in  a  moment  of  rebellion, 
into  which  his  friend's  uncalled-for  rebuke  had  goaded 
him,  lie  assails  even  divine  justice: 

"What  is  man  that  thou  shouldst  magnify  him.1' 

(This  is  a  satire  on  the  8th  Psalm.) 

"And  try  him  everv  moment. 

If  I  have  sinned,  what  have  I  done. 

Why  hast  thou  set  me  as  a  mark  for  thee 

So  that  I  am  a  burden  to  myself?" 

Then  Bildad,  the  second  friend  takes  up  the  argument. 

''How  long  wilt  thou  speak  in  this  way. 

Doth  God  pervert  justice? 

If  thou  wert  pure  and  upright,  he  would  make  the  habitation  of 
thy  righteousness  prosperous. 

And  although  thy  beginning  were  small,  thy  latt°r  end  would 
greatly  increase. 

Make  enquiry  of  former  age,  of  the  experience  of  ancestors, 

Can  a  rush  grow  up  wiihout  mirt?  while  yet  in  its  greenness  it 
withereth. 

So  are  the  paths  of  all  that  forget  God. 

Behold  God  will  not  cast  away  a  perfect  man, 

Neither  will  He  uphold  the  evi!-doers." 

That  the  second  friend  should  obstinately  persist  in 
the  same  theory, as  though  misfortune  could  be  accounted 
for  in  no  other  way,  galled  Job  sorely.  But  that  he 
should  also  insinuate  in  an  unmistaken  manner  that  Job 
was  probably  guilty  of  some  crime  about  which  he 
refused  to  be  frank,  drove  him  to  such  desperation,  that, 
added  to  his  keen  physical  sufferings,  caused  him  to 
break  through  all  the  limits  of  reason,  and  approach 
well  nigh  to  the  borders  of  blasphemy  : 


ii 


"  How  can  man  be  just  with  God,  if  it  please  Him  to  contend 
with  man. 

He  maketh  the  pillars  of  the  earth  to  tremble, 

He  commandeth  the  sun,  He  sealeth  up  the  stars. 

He  alone  stretcheth  out  the  heavens  and  treadeth  upon  the  waves 
of  the  sea. 

Who  can  say  to  Him  what  doest  Thou? 

How  then  can  I  answer  Him. 

Even  though  I  were  righteous,  I  would  not  answer  Him. 

For  he  breaketh  me  in  a  tempest. 

And  multiplieth  my  wounds  without  cause. 

He  destroyeth  both  the  perfect  and  the  wicked. 

He  will  mock  at  the  trial  of  the  innocent. 

The  earth  is  given  into  the  hand  of  evil  doers. 

He  covered)  the  faces  of  the  judges, 

If  it  be  not  He.  who  then  is  it? 

Then  calming  down  a  little  bit,  as  he  realizes  that  he 
has  spoken  too  rashly,  he  continues  in  a  gentler  tone: 

"Is  it  good  that  Thou  shouldst  oppress, 

That  Thou  shouldst  despise  the  work  of  Thine  hands, 

Thou  hast  granted  me  life  and  favor, 

Thy  care  hath  preserved  my  spirit. 

Are  net  my  days  few?  Cease  then  and  let  me  alone 

That  I  may  take  comfort  a  little,  before  I  go  whence  I  shall  not 
return. 

Even  to  the  land  of  darkness,  and  of  the  shadow  of  death." 

O  the  awful  sadness  of  despair  and  the  bitter  anguish 
conveyed  in  these  words.  Is  the  author  recalling  a  bitter 
experience  of  his  own?  How  true  to  life  is  this  natural 
impetuous  unreasonableness  of  an  oppressed  soul.  And 
still  as  though  his  cup  of  agony  were  not  yet  full, 
Zopher,  the  third  friend  must  now  reiterate  the  same 
provoking  insinuations,  in  that  same  exasperating, 
patronising  way  : 

"Should  thy  boasting  make  men  hold  their  peace. 

And  when  thou  morkest  shall  no  man  make  thee  ashamed? 

Thou  say'st— I  am  clean  and  pure. 

Would  that  God  would  open  His  lips  aga'nst  ther. 

Know  that  God  exacteth  of  tree  less  than  thine  iniquity  deserveth. 

(As  though  Zopher  now  actually  had  in  hand  the  facts 
of  Job's  sin.) 

"Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God. 

It  is  as  high  as  heaven,  what  canst  thou  do? 

Deep  as  the  gr*ve  what  canst  thou  know? 

He  knoweth  vain  man,  and  sees  iniquity,  even  when  He  seems  to 
ignore  it. 


12 


Therefore  if  iniquity  be  in  thy  hand  put  it  away, 
Surely  then  thou  shalt  lift  up  thy  face  without  stain. 
Then  though  there  be  darkness,  it  shall  be  as  morning. 
And  thou  shalt  be  secure  because  there  is  hope." 

Job  now  replies  to  his  third  opponent,  and  his  anger 
takes  the  form  of  sarcasm: 

"Oh  yes  you  are  all  very  clever. 

And  when  you  die  there  wont  be  any  wisdom  left. 

But  I  know  something  as  well  as  you. 

I  am  not  inferior  to  you. 

(I  yet  maintain)  The  just  and  perfect  man  is  made  a  laughing 
stock. 

The  tents  of  robbers  prosper,  and  they  that  provoke  God  are 
secure. 

Every  one  knows  without  your  telling  that  God  accomplishes 
all  things. 

That  in  His  hand  is  the  soul  of  every  living  thing. 

That  with  Him  is  wisdom  and  might  and  effectual  making; 

When  He  breaks  down   none  can  build  up  again. 

He  can  make  judges— fools,  and  princes— contemptible. 

I  know  all  these  things  as  well  as  you  do.' 

It  is  God's  justice,  not  his  power  that  Job  doubts. 
But  you  are  physicians  of  no  value. 

Would  that  you  would  hold  your  peace  and  that  would  be  your 
wisdom. 

God  will  slay  me,  I  have  no  hope. 
Nevertheless  I  will  maintain  my  ways  before  Him, 
I  know  that  I  am  righteous, 
Oh  let  me  speak  and  answer  thou  me. 
Make  me  to  know  my  transgression  and  my  sins." 

Then  turning  from  his  own  woes  to  those  of  man  in 
general,  he  bursts  forth  : 

"Man  that  is  born  of  woman  is  of  few  days. 

And  full  of  trouble. 

He  buddeth  like  a  flower,  and  withereth; 

He  fleeth  as  a  shadow,  and  ceases  to  be. 

Thou  hast  decided  his  limits  beyond  which  he  cannot  pass. 

When  he  giveth  up  his  life,  where  is  he, 

If  a  man  die  shall  he  live  again? 

In  these  sad  reflections  of  wavering'doubt,  the  first 
portion  of  the  book  closes.  The  discussion  will  reopen 
again.  The  problems  of  life, — immortality,  sin,  suffering 
happiness,  and  divine  justice  will  be  further  fathomed. 
And  we  shall  see  what  religious  lessons  and  what  new 
truth  this  great  unknown  Hebrew  writer  wishes  to  teach 
mankind. 


TOB  —II. 


o 


b. 


II. 

We  closed  the  last  lecture  on  Job  with  the  first  act,  so 
to  speak,  when  the  curtain  fell  after  Job  had  replied  in 
turn  to  the  accusations  of  his  three  friends.  Before  it 
rises  again  on  the  second  argument,  let  us  consider  their 
relative  views. 

The  friends,  following  the  old  theology,  which  would 
attempt  to  account  for  the  whole  moral  plan  of  the  uni- 
verse by  a  half  truth,  argue  that,  because  Job  is  afflicted^ 
Job  must  have  sinned.  Surely,  they  should  have  felt 
that  there  must  be  some  mental  reservation  in  that  theory, 
or  society  would  have  treated  every  unfortunate  as  a 
criminal.  But  they  so  forgot  their  original  purpose 
that  they  became  more  anxious  to  prove  Job  wicked 
than  their  theories  mistaken.  Job,  conscious  of  his 
innocence,  is  exasperated  by  their  insinuations,  and  still 
more  so  by  their  patronising  advice.  They  give  him 
magnificent  pictures  of  God's  power.  Job  retorts  that 
he  is  well  acquainted  with  the  might  of  God,  and  in 
turn  gives  them  majestic  descriptions  of  Divine  marvels. 
It  is  not  God's  power  that  he  doubts,  but  His  justice. 
The  contest  between  God  and  man  is  unequal  and 
unfair,  he  contends, — how  can  weak  mortals  stand  justi- 
fied before  that  awful  time-defying  Power?  Job  reaches 
the  extremity  of  irreverence  and  doubt  to  which  his 
sufferings  and  his  accusers  have  driven  him,  when  he 
suggests  that  God  has  devised  this  magnificent  creation 
only  to  destroy  man. 

We  must  not  take  such  outbursts  too  strictly.  We 
can  see  thatJob  never  quite  believes  his  most  intemperate 
speeches.  In  moments  of  great  passion  or  suffering,  we 
are  likely  to  say  what  we  know  to  be  unjust  and  untrue; 


and,  noble  though  Job  is,  he  is  but  a  man.  A  less 
skilful  writer  would  have  depicted  him  unmoved  in  all 
his  troubles,  never  forgetting  himself  in  paroxysm  of 
grief  or  rage;  but  this  truly  human  picture  is  the 
achievement  of  genius.  There  is,  however,  another 
reason  why  the  author  permits  his  hero  to  give  expres- 
sion to  such  daring  views;  he  wishes  to  present  through 
Job  all  theories  of  God  and  life,  even  the  most  radical 
and  sceptical.  To  be  fair  and  convincing,  he  must 
ignore  none. 

On  the  other  hand,  Job's  wild  language  convinces 
his  friends  more  positively  than  ever  that  he  is  guilty 
of  some  wrong.  So,  while  they  at  first  dwelt  on  the 
rewards  of  repentance,  they  now  try  to  frighten  him  by 
telling  him  of  the  terrible  punishments  of  the  wicked. 
As  if  man  could  ever  be  frightened  into  goodness,  or  as 
if  the  abstaining  from  evil  through  cowardice  or  fear, 
could  ever  be  called  goodness  at  all  !  But  in  these  later 
dialogues,  Job  and  his  friends  change  places — they 
become  violent  while  he  grows  calm — something  of 
his  old  faith  begins  to  return,  broken  here  and  there  by 
occasional  outbursts  against  the  visitation  of  God.  This 
ebb  and  flow  of  faith  is  equally  true  to  human  nature. 

Following  the  original  order,  Eliphaz  is  the  first  to 
to  speak.  He  rebukes  Job  now  without  reserve: 

(If  thy  theory  were  correct,  then) 

"Thou  wouhlst'do  away  with  fear  and  devotion  to  God  (altogether) 
It  is  thine  iniquity  that  is  guiding  thy  speech. 
Not  I,  but  thine  own  lips,  testify  against  thee. 
Art  thnu  the  first  man  that  was  born, 
Hast  thou  been  admitted  in  the  secret  counsel  of  God  ? 
Hast  thou  the  monopoly  of  wisdom? 
Thou  knowest  nothing  that  we  do  not  know. 
(In  fact)  We  bring  to  you  the  experience  of  the  aged. 
Are  the  consolations  of  God  (the  retributions  of  life)  too  small  for 
thee? 


5? 

Do  not  let  thy  feelings  carry  thee  away, 
To  turn  thy  spirit  against  God. 

What  is  even  the  best  of  men — that  he  can  claim  righteousness? 
Much   less   one  (presumably     Job)   who    drinketh    iniquity    like 
water." 

And  then,    to  "  comfort  "  Job,  he  closes  with    a    lurid 
picture  of  the  sufferings  of  the  wicked. 
Again  Job  returns  to  the  challenge: 

"  Miserable  comforters  are  you  all. 

Is  there  no  end  to  your  empty  arguments? 

If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  could  speak  as  you  do. 

1  could  say  disagreeable  things  and  wisely  shake  my  head. 

But  if  you  were  in  my  place,  I  would  try  to  solace  you 

And  strengthen  you  with  encouraging  words." 

Fearing  they  had  not  realized  his  sufferings,  Job  now 
follows  with  an  awfully  vivid  description  of  them, 
again  protesting  his  innocence  and  calling  on  God  to 
vindicate  him  : — 

"  Behold,  my  witness  is  in  heaven 

And  He  that  can  vouch  for  me  is  On  High. 

I  was  at  ease  and  he  broke  me  asunder,  even  though  there  was 
no  violence  in  my  hands 

Mine  eyes  pour  out  tears  to  the  Almighty,  that  He  would 
maintain  the  right  of  a  man  with  God  and  with  his  neighbor. 

For  when  a  few  years  are  come,  I  shall  go  the  way  whence  I 
shall  not  return. 

If  I  look  toward  the  grave  as  my  (last)  home, 

If  I  have  said  to  decay  thou  art  my  father, 

And  to  the  worm,  thou  art  my  mother, 

Where  will  my  hope  be  then? 

It  shall  go  down  to  the  bars  of  the  grave 

\Vhen  -once  there  is  rest  in  the  dust." 

In  his  most  despairing  moods,  Job  even  questions  the 
future  life.  For  the  author,  true  to  his  comprehensive 
plan,  must  present  the  theories  of  the  agnostics  also,  and 
they  have  always  existed. 


Bildad,  the  second  speaker,  takes  the  cue  of  the  first 
by  giving  Job  a  refreshing  picture  of 

"How  the  light  of  the  wicked  shall  be  put  out, 

How  he  shall  be  chased  out  of  the  world  and  his  remembrance 
perish  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  how  the  dwellings  of  the 
unrighteous  become  desolate. 

The  patient  Job,  wearied  unto  death,  replies  :- 

"How  long  will  ye  vex  my  soul 

And  break   me  in    pieces    with    words? 

Ten  times  have  you  reproached  me. 

You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  treat  me  so  hardly. 

Even  if  I  have  erred,  my  error  remains  with  myself." 

Job  is  wrong  there;  no  man  can  sin  against  himself 
only.  The  consequences  always  reach  others.  In  a 
despondent  tone,  he  tells  us  again  of  his  woes,  giving 
some  interesting  experiences  of  how  a  man  is  treated  in 
adversity:- 

"My  relatives  have  failed  me,  my  friends  have  forgotten  me, 

The  servants  of  my  own  household  treat  me  as  a  stranger. 

If  1  call  to  a  servant,  he  returneth  no  answer,  though  I  entreat 
him.  Even  children  despise  me 

Have  pity  upon  me,  have  pity  upon  me,  oh  ye  my  friends, 

For  the  hand  of  God  hath  touched  me. 

Yet  I  know  that  my  Vindicator  liveth. 

And,  though  this  body  be  destroyed,  yet  without  my  flesh  shall  I 
see  God, 

Whom  I  shall  see  for  myself  and  mine  eyes  shall  behold." 

The  third  speaker,  Zophar,  but  repeats  the  ideas  of  his 
fellows.  "The  triumph  of  the  wicked  is  short,  and  the 
joy  of  the  godless  but  for  a  moment."  In  answer  to 
these  dogmatic  statements,  Job  takes  up  that  mysterious 
problem  of  life,  the  frequent  prosperity  of  the  wicked, 
and  the  no  less  frequent  adversity  of  the  righteous. 

"Whv  doth;  wicked  become  prosperous  and  longlived,  and 
their  offspring  secure? 

[The  very  ones]  that  defied  God.  that  say  what  is  the  Almighty 
that  we  should  serve  him, [find]  their  houses  safe  from  fear. 


How  often  is  "the  lamp  of  ihe  wicked    put   out?"  (to  quote  you) 
You  say  God  layeth  up  retribution  for  their  children, 
But  they  don't  care  what  happens  after  they  are  gone. 
One  man,  full  of  blessings,  dieth  in  quietness  and  peace,  another 
dies  in  bitterness  of  soul,  having  never  tasted  good. 
Why  then  comfort  me  in  vain, 
Seeing  that  in  your  answers  there  is  only  fasehood  ?'• 

This  closes  the  second  act  or  series,  and  the  friends 
recommence  their  arguments  for  the  last  time,  though 
they  have  nothing  fresh  to  tell  except  that  now  instead 
of  gently  hinting  at  Job's  possible  iniquity,  they:  throw 
oft  all  reserve  and  positively  and  openly  assert  it — as  the 
only  explanation  of  his  calamities  and  his  rebelliousness. 
Eliphaz  once  more: — 

"Can  a  man  be  profitable  to  God? 

Surely  he  that  is  wise  is  profitable  to  himself 

Is  it  any  pleasure  to  the  Almighty  that  thou  art  righteous? 

Is  it  gain  to  Him  that  thou  makest  thy  ways  perfect? 

Is  it  for  fear  of  thee,  that  He  reproveth  thee? 

(No!)  It  is  because  thy  wickedness  is  great.  Why!— there  is 
no  ena  to  your  iniquities.'' 

Eliphaz  then  coolly  proceeded  to  quote  the  list  of  what 
he  believes  to  be  Job's  sins,  drawing  entirely  on  his 
imagination  concluding  with  an  edifying  sermon  of  the 
good  that  will  still  come  to  him,  if  he  but  forsake  the 
crimes  that  poor  Job  had  never  committed.  But  the 
friends  have  ceased  to  anger  Job  now;  his  thoughts  enter 
a  loftier  plane — that  wave  of  hysterical  reproach  is  over. 
He  does  not  deign  to  answer  the  friend— he  puts  him 
aside — and  looks  above  : — 

"Oh  that  \  knew  where  I  might  find  God. 

Th.u  I  might  plead  my  cause  before  Him." 

It  was  no  use   pleading    it  before  men — who  remained 
stubborn  in  their  stock  arguments: 
"I  want  to  know  how  He  would  answer  me. 
Would  He  contend  against  me  in  the  greatness  of  His  power? 


No!  surely  not;  I  know  He  would  listen  to  me. 
(But  where  can  I  find  Him?) 
Behold  I  go  forward  and  He  is  not  there. 
And  backwards  but  I  cannot  perceive  Him 
He  evades  me  wherever  I  turn. 

(How  like  and  yet  unlike  the  i39th  Psalm.) 
Yet  have  1  kept  His  way  and  obeyed  His  commands. 
I  have  treasured  His  words  more  than  my  necessary  food. 
But  He  doeth  as  He  wishes  and  fulfilleth  my  destiny  against  me. 
So  when  1  consider  I  am  afraid  of  Him. 
Why  is  it,  seeing  times  are  not  hidden  from  the  Almighty 
That  those  who  know  Him  see  not  His  diys? 

(How  many  a  one  has  uttered  that  imploring  cry, "Give 
us  more  light  on  God's  ways.") 

Every  outrage  and  wrong  committed  by  man  is 
described  by  Job  with  pathetic  vividness. 

And  yet  God  seems  to  let  the  wicked  rest  securely. 

If  this,  he  concludes,  be  not  true,  who  will  prove  me  false? 

Bildad  evades  the  direct  question  by  saying  that  it  is 
impossible  foreman  who  is  a  worm  to  be  just  before  God 
to  whom  belongs  all  dominion  and  before  whose  purity 
even  the  stars  grow  dim."  Here  and  there  Job  and  his 
opponents  seem  to  use  each  other's  arguments,  though  to 
prove  different  conclusions.  But  Job  in  all  his  misery 
will  yield  to  none  in  his  recognition  of  the  greatness  of 
the  Almighty.  He  breaks  forth  into  another  one  of  those 
sublime  descriptions  of  all  embracing  nature,  in  which 
the  author  seems  to  be  at  his  best: — 

JOB. 

"He  stretcheth  out  the  north  over  empty  space. 
And  hangeth  the  earth  upon  nothing. 
He  bindeth  up  the  waters  in  His  clouds. 
By  His  spirit  are  the  heavens  beautified. 
And  these  are  but  the  outskirts  of  His  power. — 
How  small  a  whisper  is  heard  of  Him 
But  the  thunder  of  His  power  who  can  understand? — 


I* 

9 

Turning  once  more  to  his  own  cause  : 

As  God  liveth  who  hath  taken  away  my  right 

My  lips  chall  speak  no  unrighteousness. 

Till  I  die,  J  will  not  put  away  mine  integrity. 

My  righteousness  I  hold  fasl,  and  will  not  let  it  go. 

My  heart  shall  not  reproach  me  so  long  as  I  live." 

Job  then  had  withstood  Satan's  test  in  spite  of  occa- 
sional waverings.  No  affliction  could  turn  him  from 
virtue.  But  that  original  experiment  with  which  the 
book  opened  in  the  prologue  in  heaven  has  been  put 
aside  in  the  larger  problem  of  the  purpose  for  which 
suffering  is  imposed  on  mankind.  It  had  been  only  used  to 
introduce  this  discussion,  or  perhaps  the  author's  origi- 
nal plan  expanded  and  deepened  as  he  advanced.  After 
a  last  speech  which  must  be  ascribed  to  the  third  friend — 
Zophar,  although  the  text  ascribes  it  to  Job,  the  third 
act  closes.  The  friends  have  been  silenced,  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  the  old-fashioned  theology  and  narrow  con- 
ception of  Providence  has  been  exposed.  We  presume 
they  now  withdraw  and  Job  is  left  alone. 

Sitting  in  solitude, he  again  breaks  forth  into  a  mourn- 
ful soliloquy  of  his  happy  past,  by  which  the  author 
skillfully  gives  us  a  fuller  insight  into  his  early  life: 

"Oh  that  I  were  as  in  the  months  ot  old 

As  ii!  days  when  God  watched  over  me. 

When  His  lamp  shone  above  my  head  and  by  His  light  I  walked 
through  darkness, 

When  the  Almighty  was  yet  with  me,  and  my  children  were 
about  rm. — 

When  I  went  forth  to  the  city  gate,  the  aged  rose  and  stood. 

The  young  shrunk  back,  with  awe,  the  princess  ceased  from 
talking. 

And  the  ear  that  heard  me  blessed  me. 

Because  I  delivered  the  poor  that  cried 

The  fatherless  that  had  none  to  help  him. 

And  1  made  the  willow's  heart  to  sing    or  joy. 

1  was  eyes  to  the  blind  and  feet  to  the  lame. 


10 


And  I  defended  the  cause  of  him  who  was  unknown  to  me, 
Umo  me  men  gave  ear  and  waited,  and   afrer  I  had  cpoken  they 
answered  not  again. 

But  now  I  am  in  derision,  they  abhor  me  and  stand  aloof. 
And  spare  not  to  insult  me.     I  am  thrown  down  by  the  mob. 
My  soul  is  poured  out  within  me,  affliction  has   taken  posse-sion. 
I  cry  to  thee,  oh  God,  and  Thou  dost  not  answer  me. 
Thou  art  cruel  and  persecuteth  me. 
Did  I  not  weep  for  him  that  was  in  trouble? 
Did  not  my  soul  grieve  for  the  needy? 
And  now  I  stand  in  the  assembly  and  cry  for  help. — 
If  I  have  walked  with  vanity  or  deceit,  then    let  justice  be  meted 
out  to  me. 

Had  my  heart  followed  the  lust  of  mine  eyes, 
Had  I  enticed  my  neighbor's  wife. 
Then  I  would  say  let  me  sow  and  let  another  eat, 
For  that  would  be  a  heinous  crime  indeed. 
If  I  have  seen  any  perish  for  want  of  clothing, 
Or  if  1  have  lifted  up  my  hand  against  the  fatherless, 
Then  let  my  shoulder  fall  from  my  shoulder-blade 
And  my  arm  be  broken  from  the  bone. 

Had  I  made  gold  my  hope,  had  I  foolishly  worshiped  the  sun, 
Had  I  even  rejoiced  at  my  enemy's  downfall, 
That  too  would  be  iniquity  worthy  ot  punishment. — 
Here  is  my  signature,  let  the  Almighty  answer  me, 
Would  that  I  could  see  the  indictment  against  me." 
Here  follows  the  speech  of  a  fourth  man,Elihu.       The 
Bible    scholars   nearly  all  unite  in  concluding   that  this 
did  not    belong  to    the  original    book  of  Job,  but  is   an 
insertion  by  some  later  writer  who  wished  to    introduce 
his    particular    opinions    into     the     discussion.        Such 
liberties  in  the  field  of  literature  were  common  in  olden 
times.     But  as  he  adds   nothing  to    the    argument   and 
only  weakly  copies  what  the  book  contains,  we  will  pass 
him  by. 

To  prove  his  innocence  to  his  friends  and  to  fathom 
the  cause  of  his  affliction,  Job  had  repeatedly  called  upon 
God  to  appear  to  him,  to  explain  His  ways  and  to  justi- 


n 


fy  his  punishments.  Job's  request  is  at  last  answered 
What  could  not  be  imagined  in  sober  narration  is  cer- 
tainly permissible  in  poetry  and  parable,  especially  in 
the  bold  style  of  antiquity.  The  author  actually  pic- 
tures God  Almighty  meeting  the  challenge  of  the 
afflicted  man. 

Then  the  Lord  answered  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind  and 
said: 

Who  is  this  that  darkeneth  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge- 

Let  me  ask  thee  [who  would  venture  to  argue  with  God.] 

Where  wast  thou  when  1  iaicl  the  foundations  ot  the  earth? 

Teil  me  if  you  can. 

Who  determined  its  measure  or  stretched  the  line  upon  it. 

Who  laid  the  corner  stone  thereof  when  the  morning  stars  sang 
together. 

When  I  presented  for  the  clouds  my  decree. 

And  said,  hither  shah  thy  come  and  no  further, 

And  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed. 

Hast  thou  commanded  the  morning  since  the  days  began  ? 

Hast  thou  entered  into  the  springs  of  the  sea, 

Or  walked  into  the  recesses  of  the  deep? 

Have  the  gates  of  death  been  revealed  unto  thee? 

Declare  if  thou  knowest  it  all. 

Where  is  the  way  to  the  dwelling  of  light. 

And  as  to  darkness,  where  is  its  place. 

Doubtless  thou  knowest  for  thou  wast  then  born! 

Hast  thou  entered  the  treasuries  of  the  snow. 

By  what  way  is  the  light  parted, 

Or  the  East  wind  scattered  over  the  earth. 

Who  hath  cleft  a  channel  for  the  water  flood, 

Or  for  the  lightning  of  the  thunder? 

(We  to-day  would  say  for  the  thunder  of  the  lightning) 

Hath  the  rain  a  father,  or  who  hath  begotten  the  drops  of  dew? 

Out  of  whose  womb  came  the  ice. 

And  the  hoar-frost  of  heaven,  who  hath  gendered  it? 

Canst  thou  bind  the  cluster  of  the  Pleiades, 

Dost  thou  know  the  ordinances  of  the  heavens.1* 

Who  hath  given  understanding  to  the  mind? 


12 


Who  provideth  the  raven  his  food 

When  the  young  ones  cry  unto  Gcd  ? 

Hast  thou  clothed  the  horse's  neck  with  the  quivering  mane, 

The  glory  of  whose  snorting  is  so  terrible 

As  he  paweth  in  the  valley  and  leapeth  as  a  locust 

Doth  the  eagle  mount  up  at  thy  command? 

Doth  the  hawk  soar  by  thy  wisdom 

Wilt  thou  then  condemn  Me  that  thou  mayst  be  justified. 

Or  hast  thou  an  arm  like  God? 

Then  will  I  also  confess  of  thee 

That  thine  own  right  hand  can  save  thee. 

Job,  overawed  by  the  realization  of  God's  magnificence, 
meekly  and  reverently  confesses: 

"Behold,  I  am  of  small  account.     What  can  I  answer  thee? 

I  know  that  thou  canst  do  all  things. 

Yea!  I  have  "hidden  counsel  without  knowledge,' ' 

Therefore  have  I  uttered  that  which  I  understood  not. 

Things  too  wonderful  for  me,  which  I  could  never  know 

Before  I  had  but  heard  of  Thee — now  I  see  Thee; 

1  will  lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth  and  say  no  more." 

So  closes  the  book  of  Job.  There  is  an  epilogue,  it  is 
true,  which  tells  how  Job  was  relieved  from  his  suffering 
and  was  given  children,  wealth  and  honor  once  more. 
People  love  to  clear  up  a  story,  and  see  its  happy  end. 
But  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  original  author  wrote  that 
epilogue.  It  is  certainly  unnecessary  for  the  purpose  of 
the  parable,  in  fact,  rather  confuses  it.  For  what  is  it  to 
teach — that  suffering  is  not  necessarily  the  result  of  sin 
nor  prosperity  the  consequence  of  righteousness?  If 
Job  were  rewarded  after  all,  it  would  be  an  endorse- 
ment of  the  old  belief.  God's  vast  plan  of  the  universe 
cannot  all  be  explained  on  that  theory  of  material  reward 
and  punishment  as  the  three  friends  and  all  antiquity 
believed  and  as  many  believe  still.  We  cannot  know 
the  ways  of  God  to  man,  they  are  past  our  finding  out. 
They  comprehend  much  more  than  our  finite  mind  can 


"7 

13 

grasp.  Such  conclusions  dawn  on  us  when  we  pause 
for  a  moment  to  realize  the  stupendous  marvel  of  God's 
glorious  creation. 

Job  is  made  so  very  righteous  and  his  suffering  so 
exceedingly  great — as  the  most  forcible  instance  to  prove 
that  adversity  is  not  necessarily  the  consequence  of  sin — 
reducing  the  case  to  the  lowest  terms. 

If  you  see  a  man  whom  you  think  wicked,  in  esteem, 
and  one  whom  you  thought  good  in  adversity,  you  need 
not  conclude  that  either  you  were  mistaken  in  your 
opinion  of  their  character,  as  the  friends  thought,  or  that 
God  is  not  just,  as  Job  at  first  thought,  or  that  there  is 
not  a  God  at  all,  as  the  sceptic  concludes.  Can  you 
learn  the  whole  from  a  detail — how  do  you  know  but 
that  partial  evil  mav  be  a  universal  good,  that  in  the 
Divine  plan  that  is  to  encompass  all  time,  the  individual 
may  not  suffer  for  the  larger  welfare  of  humanity.  And 
again,  thousands  of  intervening  causes  outside  of  moral? 
may  bring  suffering  and  pain.  There  are  natural  laws 
as  well  as  moral  laws  in  God's  world,  which  we  must  also 
not  ignore.  You  will  notice  that  God  does  not  really 
answer  Job — but  giving  him  a  cursory  glimpse  of  the 
marvels  of  existence — He  shows  him  that  it  is  impossible 
for  man  to  know  all — and  wrong  for  him  to  condemn 
what  he  can  never  understand.  Job  learns  that  the  world 
is  deerjer  than  he  thought.  A  condition  of  God's  great- 
ness is  that  we  do  not  know  Him — that  the  world  is  not 
such  r.  small  and  simple  family  affair  as  the  ancients 
supposed.  We  say  with  Moliere,  "que  sais  je,"  "What 
do  I  know?"  Just  enough  to  be  reverently  silent.  Faith 
in  God  and  His  justice  is  the  most  precious  treasure 
given  to  man,  If  he  can  hold  fast  to  that  he  can  bear  all 
things.  When  Job's  faith  came  back,  there  was  no  need 
to  relieve  him  of  his  suffering. 

Yes!  we  know  too,  that  regardless  of  punishments  and 


rewards,  it  is  always  Avorth  while  to  be  righteous,  that  as 
the  author  says;  "the  fear  of  God  that  is  wisdom,  and 
to  depart  from  evil  that  is  understanding."  So  in  light 
and  in  darkness,  in  joy  and  in  pain,  in  good  days  and  in 
ev7il  days,  we  too  will  declare  with  the  sentiments  of  this 
great  drama. 

"What  is  the  hope  of  the  godless,  though  he  get  him  gain, 

When  God  taketh  away  his  soul?" 

Yet  shall  the  righteons  hold  on  his  way, 

And  he  that  hath  clean  hands,  grow  stron  ;er  and  stronger." 


The  Influence  of  the  Parent  on  the 
Child. 

The  Talmud  says  ''The  world  is  saved  by  the  breath  of 
the  (school)  children."  And  a  modern  poet  calls  chil- 
dren"Idols  of  hearts  and  of  households. angels  of  God  in 
disguise."  I  do  not  know  if  you  have  ever  tried  to  think 
what  the  world  would  be  like  without  children — some- 
thing like  those  seasons  of  perpetual  twilight  that  we  find 
at  the  poles. 

"Ah,  what  would  the  world  be  to  us 

If  the  children  were  no  more? 
We  should  dread  the  desert  behind  us, 

Worse  than  the  dark  be'ore. 
For  what  are  all  our  contrivings 
And  the  wisdom  of  our  books, 
When  compared  with  th°ir  caresses 
And  the  gladness  of  their  looks." 

We  take  them  without  thinking  as  one  of  the  necessities 
of  life;  and  next  to  life  itself,  the  most  real  of  the  Creator's 
blessings.  We  may  say  without  hesitation  that  the  most 
powerful  of  all  human  feelings  is  the  love  of  parents  for 
children.  The  Roman  matron  Cornelia  was  probably 
not  more  devoted  than  the  average  mother,  but  only  an 
additional  cleverness  suggested  her  reply  to  the  question, 
"Where  are  your  je;vels?"  ''These  are  my  jewels,"  point- 
ing to  her  children.  We  do  not  praise  parents  for  loving 
their  children — they  can't  help  it.  It  is  one  of  God's 
laws  stamped  not  only  in  humanity,  but  in  all  living 
creatures.  And  when  Solomon  discovered  the  true 
mother  by  threatening  to  slay  the  child,  he  followed 
nature's  unerring  instinct. 

The  joy  that  comes  with  the  gift  of  a  first  child  can  be 
felt  but  cannot  be  described.  It  transcends  expression 


7" 

4 

in  language.  They  come  to  us  helpless,  hardly  conscious; 
and  gradually  before  our  eyes  they  grow  into  conscious- 
ness and  beauty  and  power.  Would  you  like  the  time  of 
infancy  to  be  shorter,  or  for  life  to  begin  with  maturity 
at  once?  It  has  been  pointed  out  that  only  the  long 
period  of  helpless  infancy  has  created  the  family.  There 
would  be  no  families  if  it  were  not  for  these  tender 
mortals  whose  gradual  unfolding  we  must  guard  and 
guide  with  gentleness  and  love.  The  home  exists  large- 
ly for  them  and  to  an  extent  they  make  it.  And  what  is 
it  without  them — without  their  sunny  laughter  and  April 
tears,  without  the  light  patter  of  their  little  feet  that  fails 
on  our  ears  like  music,  without  the  infant  chirpings  that 
gradually  become  speech,  without  their  playthings  that 
we  run  across  in  all  possible  places — mute  recorders  of 
their  presence?  Even  the  anxiety  we  suffer  at  their  ail- 
ments but  deepens  our  joy  when  they  are  in  health. 
There  they  are  in  all  the  glory  of  their  sweetness  and 
their  innocence — and  like  beauty,  their  own  excuse  for 
being. 

And  yet  in  the  triumph  of  possession,  we  must  not 
forget  that  they  are  not  really  ours,  in  the  sense  of  abso. 
lute  ownership.  They  are  only  a  charge  entrusted  to  us, 
and  God  forbid  that  we  should  abuse  the  trust  or  neglect 
it.  The  ancients  owned  their  children  as  completely  as 
their  portable  property.  The  child  was  placed  at  the 
feet  of  the  Greek  father  and  his  caprice  decided  whether 
it  should  live.  A  Roman  had  the  power  of  life  and  death 
over  his  children.  The  Chinese  to-day  often  drown  their 
daughters  as  we  sometimes  drown  superfluous  kittens! 
When  human  sacrifice  prevailed,  the  burning  of  children 
in  the  arms  of  Moloch  was  not  uncommon.  And  to-day 
those  who  recoil  in  horror  from  such  indications  of 
ignorance  and  savagery,  still  believe  their  children  to  be 
their  own  to  do  with  much  as  they  please.  Too  often  is 


7' 
5 


the  child  treated  as  a  doll  to  be  fondled  and  caressed 
and  petted,  and  to  be  slapped  sometimes  when  we  are 
out  of  humor. 

In  early  years  and  when  the  children  are  well,  we  per- 
haps think  too  much  of  the  privilege  and  not  enough  of 
the  responsibility.  We  postpone  the  less  agreeable 
duties  of  training  and  discipline  as  long  as  posssible  and 
enter  merely  into  the  delight  of  possession.  There  is 
plenty  of  time  to  train  them,  we  say.  Children  should 
be  accustomed  to  the  discipline,  at  least  of  regular  habit, 
almost  from  the  day  of  their  birth.  The  parents  who  spoil 
their  children  by  treating  them  unevenly,  strict  to-day 
and  indulgent  to-morrow,  in  the  first  place  give  them- 
selves infinitely  more  trouble  both  in  the  present  and  for 
the  future,  and  in  the  second  place  the  children  are  not 
nearly  as  happy.  It  is  not  easy  to  be  perfectly  just  with 
our  children;  even  if  we  have  the  wisdom  to  rear  them  in 
the  best  way — how  few  of  us  have  the  self-control.  Our 
rabbis  say  "It  is  easier  to  see  a  whole  forest  of  olive  trees 
grow  up  than  to  rear  one  child."  What  is  harder  than 
to  repress  the  rising  tenderness  that  would  clasp  the 
little  one  to  our  arms,  when  we  should  gravely  impress 
the  lesson  that  the  occasion  calls  for.  We  receive 
special  preparation  for  nearly  all  undertakings  and  call- 
ings, but  that  highest  and  most  sacred  of  duties  the 
training  of  the  children  entrusted  to  our  keeping — that 
is  left  to  chance — to  come  of  itself!  How  much  of  our 
education  is  made  up  of  tilings  we  may  possibly  use 
and  how  little  of  some  of  the  things  about  whose  use 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  Some  women  think  a  higher 
education  thrown  away  if  they  have  only  just  to  look 
after  their  children.  I  know  of  no  finer  use  of  the  intel- 
lect than  that  of  developing  the  mental  and  moral  nature 
of  a  human  being,  and  a  very  fine  intellect  it  calls  for, 
let  me  tell  you. 


r 


They  come  to  us,  these  soft,  impressionable  tilings,  and 
in  the  early  formative  age  we  can  mould  them  to  our 
purpose — they  are  clay  in  our  hands.  Here  is  the 
supreme  moment  to  lay  the  everlasting  foundations. 
Oh,  to  be  gifted  with  the  true  wisdom  to  guide  them 
aright.  It  is  the  children's  age  of  faith.  They  will 
believe  whatever  you  tell  them.  Beware  that  you  do 
not  trifle  with  that  beautiful  trust  by  telling  them  what 
is  not  true  as  far  as  you  know  it,  or  you  will  be  crushing 
out  one  of  the  fairest  blossoms  of  the  soul.  And  remem- 
ber always  that  the  best  lessons  are  taught  by  example- 
Children  learn  to  speak  bv  imitating  those  about  them  — 
no  one  teaches  them  to  speak.  Their  education  for  the 
first  six  years  of  their  lives  is  chiefly  imitation.  They 
will  get  into  the  habit  of  doing  not  what  they  are  told 
to  do,  but  what  they  see  done  by  others.  They  will 
s>peak  the  language  that  you  speak,  coarse  if  it  be  coarse? 
—  refined  if  it  be  refined.  Your  mode  of  life  is  their 
education,  both  in  manners  and  morals.  Yes,  the  sins 
of  the  parents  are  visited  on  the  children,  even  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.  What  we  do  not  give  them 
by  example,  we  give  them  by  inheritance,  transmitting 
our  failings  and  our  virtues  with  the  color  of  our  skin* 
even  to  a  distant  posterity. 

We  are  apt  to  draw  distinctions  between  the  American 
and  the  European  systems  of  training — for  there  is  a 
difference.  And  there  is  good  and  evil  in  both.  Here 
as  always  the  golden  mean  is  the  safest  course.  Per- 
haps some  American  parents  are  too  indulgent,  and 
pamper  their  children,  humoring  their  likes  and  dislikes. 
While  the  European  child  for  the  most  part  is  given 
what  is  thought  good  for  it  and  no  questions  asked — 
that  or  nothing,  the  diet  is  simpler,  the  discipline  more 
strict.  But  the  children  are  none  the  less  happy.  I 
think  they  are  happier.  For  when  an  occasional  indul- 


gence  is  permitted  either  in  a  later  hour  to  stay  up  or  a 
tasty  dish,  or  an  outing — it  comes  with  the  rarity  ot  ;\ 
treat.  While  the  children  who  always  have  what  they 
wish — enjoy  but  languidly — and  as  young  men  and 
young  women  soon  grow  blase.  But  the  homely  disci- 
pline of 'Spartan  simplicity"  finds  the  young  man  with  a 
keen  enjoyment  for  all  pleasures  however  simple.  And 
the  early  training  from  the  nursery,  crystalized  now 
into  habit  and  character  has  taught  him  to  restrain  the 
gratification  of  his  wishes  within  a  moderate  compass, 
and  to  feel  too  that  he  has  a  right  to  demand  but  little 
from  the  world  and  to  be  thankful  for  that  little. 

Perhaps  also  the  American  childhood  is  too  short. 
The  boys  and  girls  are  mimic  men  and  women  before  we 
know  it.  They  are  too  much  around  the  adults,  listen- 
ing to  discussions  for  which  they  are  not  ready  and  lor 
which  they  are  not  fit;  and  leading  the  same  life  as  their 
elders,  admitted  into  all  their  gathering,  they  attain  a 
precociousness  that  soon  dispels  the  happy  innocence  of 
childhood.  Speaking  of  Samuel,  the  Bible  says  :  "And 
the  child  was  a  child."  Let  your  children  be  children. 
Let  them  live  altogether  in  the  fairy  world  of  childhood- 
Let  them  mature  slowly.  It  will  tell  later  on  in  their 
life.  Nature's  best  growths  are  gradual,  slowly  ripening 
to  a  glorious  and  enduring  perfection.  John  Stuart 
Mill's  father  was  so  anxious  that  he  should  be  a  sturdy 
man,  that  he  permitted  him  no  childhood  at  all.  He 
always  looked  back  sadly  to  that  want.  It  seemed  to 
cloud  his  life.  We  notice  the  complete  absence  of  senti" 
ment  in  all  his  works,  like  a  tree  bearing  fruit  without 
coming  to  flower. 

No,  however  hard  your  life  be,  don't  let  the  children 
feel  it.  They  dont  mind  coarse  food  and  coarse  clothing 
and  cheap  furniture.  The  differences  between  riches 
and  poverty  are  nothing  to  them  as  long  as  they  can  play 


8 


and  sing  and  make-believe,  and  enjoy  a  blessed  liberty. 
Some  homes  are  like  prisons,  not  because  of  privation — 
they  may  be  homes  of  wealth,  but  because  the  discipline 
is  so  unnecessarily  harsh,  on  the  theory,  that  the  greater 
the  severity  the  more  surely  will  the  spirit  be  crushed. 
I  know  of  nothing  more  wicked  than  that  of  crushing 
the  spirit — it  is  killing  independence,  self-reliance,  dig- 
nity. Here  is  that  other  European  extreme,  no  less 
dangerous  than  American  indulgence,  because  it  is  so 
often  followed  by  a  reckless,  pernicious  reaction.  We 
may  make  this  a  cardinal  maxim — never  impose  a 
restraint  purely  for  the  sake  of  restraint.  Don't  bar  the 
child's  every  step  with  "thou  shalt  nots."  We  can  sym- 
pathize with  the  little  girl  who  complained  "  those  com- 
mandments do  break  so  easily." 

Do  not  mistake  firmness  for  severity.  In  the  punish- 
ing and  rewarding  of  your  children,  it  is  chiefly  necessary 
that  you  be  consistent — that  your  yea  be  yea,  and  your 
nay  be  nay.  This  is  the  best  way  to  win  early  both 
obedience  and  respect.  Be  gentle  even  in  your  punish- 
ment so  that  they  may  see  the  love  underlying  it.  The 
Bible  puts  it  in  the  best  way,  "  My  son,  despise  not  the 
chastening  of  the  Lord,  neither  be  thou  weary  of  His 
correction;  for  whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth, 
even  as  a  father  the  child  in  whom  he  delights."  Is  not 
the  father  God's  representative  to  the  child?  Mother  is 
the  name  for  God  on  the  lips  of  children.  Punishment 
in  anger  loses  all  moral  force.  It  becomes  spite  and 
revenge,  and  the  child  is  rightly  outraged. 

While  you  are  not  called  upon  to  give  full  explanation 
of  all  your  requests  and  prohibitions  to  your  children 
and  certainly  not  to  let  them  enter  into  an  argument  of 
the  merit  and  wisdom  of  your  commands,  still  they 
should  see  the  reasonableness  of  all  you  ask  them,  and 
that  they  are  not  dictated  by  caprice  and  tyranny.  This 


is  the  only  way  to  gain  the  confidence  of  your  children 
and  nothing  is  more  precious  than  that,  nor  more  impor- 
tant for  their  moral  culture.  I  do  not  like  to  see  a  wall 
of  reserve  between  parent  and  child.  Do  not  fear  that 
you  will  lose  your  children's  respect,  if  you  remove  the 
awe  of  distance  A  wise  parent  never  loses  the  child's 
respect.  Encourage  their  frankness  by  always  showing 
sympathy  for  their  small  annoyances,  and  by  taking 
lively  interest  in  their  games  and  sports  and  lessons  and 
doings  generally;  so  that  entering  completely  into 
their  lives  they  will  naturally  open  their  hearts  to  you, 
when  all  is  not  as  it  should  be  and  your  guidance  and 
advice  inspired  by  the  wisdom  that  love  itself  reveals  may 
just  save  them  from  those  follies  that  wreck  careers  and 
spoil  lives. 

Of  course  there  may  be  some  sides  to  your  children's 
natures  that  you  can  hardly  be  expected  to  know.  No 
one  human  being  can  completely  know  another.  You 
cannot  therefore  hope  to  be  admitted  into  every  experi- 
ence of  your  children.  It  is  well  sometimes  to  let  them 
alone  and  not  to  meddle  too  much  in  their  affairs.  Don't 
let  them  feel  that  they  are  watched  and  hampered.  Give 
freedom  to  their  mental  growth.  Don't  ask  as  a  paren- 
tal right  to  be  included  in  their  every  secret,  and  they 
will  love  you  for  your  consideration  and  they  will  not 
wish  to  have  anything  unknown  to  you. 

While  working  and  sacrificing  for  your  children,  even 
beyond  what  duty  calls  for,  still  you  may  not  be  suffi- 
ciently considerate  to  them.  Does  this  sound  like  a 
paradox?  I  mean  we  should  not  despise  the  feelings 
and  wants  of  children  altogether  and  treat  them  as  be- 
neath serious  consideration.  While  not  encouraging 
their  whims,  we  certainly  should  not  choke  their  indivi- 
duality. Very  often  a  silent  rebellion  is  awakened  in 
the  breast  of  the  child,  in  feeling  its  righteous  needs 


ignored  and  in  being  compelled  to  do  what  is  violently 
repugnant  to  its  nature.  In  spite  of  our  larger  experi- 
ence we  cannot  completely  fathom  these  young  beings 
although  they  be  our  own  children;  their  natures  may  be 
even  more  complex  than  our  own,  and  contain  depths 
that  we  have  never  sounded.  If  we  can  teach  them,  they 
can  teach  us  also.  Said  a  Jewish  sage:  "I  have  learnt 
much  from  my  teachers,but  most  from  my  pupils."  How 
often  the  child  is  father  to  the  man.  The  childish  imagi- 
nation pictures  strange  scenes,  absurd  mostly,  but  some- 
times full  of  suggestion  and  even  bordering  on  philoso- 
phy. If  we  cannot  answer  their  questions  we  should 
not  snub  them  by  saying  "don't  bother."  but  rejoice  that 
your  child  is  blessed  with  an  inquiring  mind  and  do  all 
you  can  to  encourage  it. 

If,  then,  woman  goes  no  further  than  her  own  home, 
here  is  a  glorious  field  to  labor  in  to  tend  the  physical, 
mental  and  moral  growth  of  human  souls.  And  to  think 
that  there  are  mothers  who  will  turn  over  the  care  of 
their  children  entirely  to  nurses!  I  am  glad  I  have  not 
to  bring  this  charge  against  Jewish  mothers.  I  must 
say  of  them  that  they  cannot  be  accused  of  avoiding  the 
responsibility  of  home  duties  and  of  large  families. 
They  surely  are  not  the  parents  who,  moving  in  a  vortex 
of  pleasure,  see  their  children  occasionally  for  a  few 
minutes,  so  that  growing  up,  the  children  only  half 
know  them.  I  say  this  type  of  the  cold,  fashionable 
worldly  parent  is  not  yet  found  amongst  us.  I  hope  it 
never  will  be.  And  those  Jewish  parents,  who,  spending 
their  youth  in  privation— had  no  opportunities  for  edu- 
cation and  culture — but  who  are  nevertheless  determined 
that  their  children  shall  not  be  so  handicapped,  but 
shall  have  all  the  advantages  that  a  liberal  education 
can  give  and  who  slave  and  pinch  and  strive  for  that 
noble  end  — I  can  only  say  God  bless  those  parents.  I 


77 

do  not  think  I  am  making  an  exaggerated  statement  in 
saying  that  Jewish  parents  are  never  forgetful  of  their 
duty  to  their  children,  even  though  they  may  often  mis- 
take what  that  duty  calls  for.  The  world  can  and  has 
taught  us  much  in  the  rearing  of  children,  for  it  has 
been  in  recent  years  raised  to  the  dignity  of  a  science. 
But  I  think  the  fulness  of  our  obligation  to  our  off- 
spring, the  closeness  of  the  tie  binding  all  the  members 
of  the  family  together,  the  wickedness  of  family  estrange- 
ments and  the  religious  sentiment  that  should  sanctify 
each  step  in  the  child's  life,  these  I  think,  the  Jew  has 
taught  the  world. 

In  one  of  his  books,  Thackeray  takes  occasion  to  say: 
"I  saw  a  Jewish  lady  yesterday  with  a  child  on  her  knee, 
from  whose  face  toward  the  child  there  shone  a  sweet- 
ness so  angelic  that  it  seemed  to  form  a  sort  of  glory 
round  both.  I  could  have  knelt  before  her  and  adored 
in  her  the  divine  beneficence  .  .  .  that  has  sanctified  the 
history  of  mankind." 


'JL'  H  K <- 

PEOPLE     OF     THE     BOOK, 

A  Bible  History  for  Jewish  Schools,  on  a  new  plan. 

Contains   much   miscellaneous   information   that   will  materially 

assist  the  Teacher  and  make  the  subject  more  interesting 

and  more  instructive  to  the  pupil, 

BY 

MAURICE  H.   HARRIS,  A.  M..   Ph.  D. 

Rabbi  of  Temple  Israel  of  Harlem,  N.  Y. 
Vol.  I.— From  the  Creation  t<>  the  Death  of  Moses. 

Second  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged. 

Book  I.  — Early  Tradition.  Book  II — Patriarchal  Ages. 

Book  III.— Exodus.  Book  IV.  — Law. 

Book  V. — Close  of  Moses'  Leadership. 

Appendix,  Prayers,  Hymns,  Caittidar,  Exatn.  Questions,  &rf. 

Vol   If — From  the  Conquest  to  the  Death  of  Salomon. 
Book  I.     The  Period  of  the  Conquest,  covering  the  Biblical 

record  from  Joshua  to  Ruth 

Book  II.—  First  Stage  of  the  Monarchy 
Book  III. — The  Rise  of  Judah,  covering  the  Biblical  record 

from  Samuel  to  Solomon. 

Vol  III.  — From  the  Secession  to  the  Exile. 
Book  I.     The  Rival  Kingdoms 

Book  II. — The  Influence  of  the  Prophets 

Book  III.  -The  Survival  of  Judah. 
OPINIONS   OF   THE   PRESS. 

"  Although  made  specially  for  use  by  Hebrews,  it  is  so  simple,  straight- 
forward and  sensible  as  to  reserve  the  attention  of  all  young  teachers  in  Sunday 
Schools.  The  handling  of  the  early  chapters  in  Genesis  is  admirably  reverent  and 
rational." — N.  y.  Herald. 

"  It  is  gratifving  to  find  our  Hebrew  brethren  doing  such  excellent  work  for 
their  Sunday  Schools.  This  little  volume  is  vastly  ahead  in  its  treatment  of  the  Old 
Testament  of  the  great  mass  of  literature  on  this  subject  prepared  for  children.  '— 
Christian  A'eeister. 


5O  cents  each  Volume  or  55. 4O  per  Oozen. 

PHILIP  COWEN,  213-215EAST44TH  STREET, 

NEW   YORK. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  CHILD  ON 
THE  PARENT. 


The  Influence  of  the  Child  on  the 
Parent. 


"Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklingsi  hast  Thou  established 
strength,  because  of  Thine  adversaries,  that  Thou  mightest  still  the 
enemy  and  the  avenger."  Psalms  viii.,  2. 

In  reading  this  verse,  one  may  experience  a  silent  pro- 
test, as  though  the  case  was  overstated.  For  the  power 
of  the  infant  is  potential  rather  than  actual.  The  strength 
is  there, but  only  in  germ. "The  child  is  father  to  the  man" 
only  as  the  seed  is  father  to  the  fruit.  Egypt  was  m^.de 
to  tremble  by  a  little  babe  in  an  ark  of  bulrushes  that 
rested  among  the  reeds  of  its  famous  Nile;  but  when 
Moses  ''stilled  the  enemy"  Pharoah,  he  was  no  longer  a 
babe,  but  a  man,  and  a  very  old  one  at  that.  Nor  was  it 
the  "strength  of  babes  "  that  induced  that  same  Pharoah 
to  murder  the  male  infants  of  the  Hebrews  at  birth,  but 
only  because  he  knew  that  babes  can  become  men  and 
men  can  become  enemies. 

But  in  the  meantime,  what  is  more  helpless  than 
human  infancy.  Ho\v  very  slowly  the  bodily  organs 
and  the  spiritual  faculties  develop.  Up  to  a  certain 
time  the  babe  does  not  know  itself  as  itself,  as  distinct 
from  things  around  it.  Yet  its  influence  is  not  postponed 
until  it  reaches  intelligent,  self-supporting  maturity. 
The  child  as  child  is  a  vital  factor  in  the  lives  of  those 
around  it.  "  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  hast  Thou 
ordained  strength  "  The  child's  first  strength  is  its 
helplessness — just  as  woman's  weakness  is  often  her 
best  protection.  However  rough  and  careless  we  may 
be  otherwise,  we  are  tenderness  and  devotion  with  it. 
And  so  that  half-conscious  dot  of  human  life,  humanizes 
the  most  brutal  and  disciplines  the  most  wayward.  Who 


could  have  thought  that  that  rough  fellow  could  have 
been  so  gentle  ?  The  child  did  it.  Who  could  have 
thought  that  that  flippant  girl  could  have  become  so 
quietly  considerate  and  self-denying  ?  The  infant  again. 
If  woman  creates  the  home,  the  child  certainly  completes 
it.  It  comes  into  the  world  full  of  wonder  at  all  things 
• — reminding  us  anew,  how  wonderful  the  world  is  when 
we  were  just  beginning  to  forget  it.  It  certainly  seems 
more  wonderful  to  us  with  that  child  in  it, — so  tiny,  so 
weak,  so  unknowing— do  we  despise  it  and  call  it  insig- 
nificant? No.  Its  childish  deficiencies  we  idealize  in 
our  fondness,  into  childish  excellencies.  Its  faulty 
articulation  is  to  us  a  new  beauty  of  speech,  and  we  are 
sorry  when  it  speaks  correctly.  Its  weakness  is  delicacy 
and  its  naughtiness  is  roguishness  — (to  think  of  the 
world  of  difference  between  roguishness  and  roguery). 
its  very  ignorance,  which  we  call  innocence,  invests  the 
child  with  a  sanctity  for  us,  and  rapturously  we  mark 
its  broader  outlook  day  by  day|  as  the  opening  of  a  soul. 
And  oh,  what  a  revelation  it  is  to  us.  In  watching  it  we 
see  how  language  grows,  how  experience  develops 
mind  and  memory,  how  facts  of  knowledge  in  the  child- 
ish brain,  at  first  partial  and  confused,  grow  clearer  and 
fuller.  And  thus  the  bud  opens  in  delicious  beauty 
before  our  entranced  eyes.  All  these  impressi9ns  work 
upon  us,  developing  our  love,  our  humility,  our  gentle- 
ness, our  reverence — ail  our  finer  sensibilities,  as  though 
Isaiah's  angel  had  touched  us  and  raised  us  to  a  higher 
human  plane.  We  grow  with  our  child,  revising  our- 
selves into  improved  editions. 

When  we  begin  to  teach  the  child,  it  puts  us  through 
a  severe  examination,  in  which  we  get  much  the  worst 
of  it.  We  did  not  realize  that  we  had  forgotten  so  much, 
and  that  there  was  so  much  that  we  had  never  known. 
The  philosopher  says:  "Tell  us  the  ultimate  cause  of 


everything;"  does  not  the  child  ask  the  same  ?  ''Where 
does  the  rain  come  from  ?"  you  return  a  stereotyped 
answer — "but  where  do  the  clouds  corne  from?"  If  you 
have  never  thought  in  your  life  before,  they  make  you 
think,  those  playful  little  things,  with  their  pointed 
questions  I  notice  that  thirst  for  knowledge  that  we 
had  in  early  youth,  we  lose  toward  middle  life.  We 
grow  a  little  tired  of  seeking  for  elusive  sources,  and 
nonchalantly  give  it  up  with,  "  What  matters?"  But  the 
child  comes  to  us  as  a  fresh  breeze,  and  its  artless 
curiosity  reawakens  our  own. 

The  possession  of  children  makes  us  feel  older  at  first, 
with  a  sense  of  our  new  responsibility — but  after  we  are 
accustomed  to  the  care  of  them,  they  make  us  feel  more 
youthful.  A  father  at  forty  feels  younger  than  a  bachelor 
at  forty.  There  seems  to  be  more  of  life  before  him. 
because  there  is  more  in  life.  In  a  sense,  we  grow 
young  again  with  the  children,  coming  down  to 
their  childish  conceptions  of  things,  entering  into  their 
humor,  playing  with  them  in  their  games  of  make- 
believe.  For  their  sakes,  we  are  content  to  live  some  of 
our  childhood  over  again.  They  unbend  us  in  spite  of 
ourselves,  and  break  down  the  wall  of  crabbedness  and 
bitterness  that  the  world's  storms  and  the  world's  tor- 
ments build  around  us.  (I  have  always  found,  by  the 
way,  that  the  torments  are  harder  to  bear  than  the 
storms.)  The  children  counteract  many  disappointments, 
helping  us  to  live  through  them  While  we  are  in  the 
first  throes  of  the  stinging  blow,  perhaps  the  presence 
of  the  children  with  their  unconscious  prattle,  seems  to 
bring  no  comfort,  seems  even  to  be  irksome;  (the  sun- 
shine seems  irksome  in  the  moment  of  supreme  misery). 
But.  gradually,  after  we  have  brooded  over  our  grief 
and  given  way  to  the  first  outburst,  the  thought  of  the 
children  at  hand,  to  come  to  us  at  our  call — begins  to 


effect  its  healing,  consoling  influence.  Yes  !  "from  the 
babes  God  has  sent  strength  to  quiet  "  the  demons  of 
passion  and  hate  and  despair  within  our  raging  breasts. 
The  childish  influence  soothes  and  stills  us  like  a  nar- 
cotic— the  storm  is  over — we  can  smile  again.  They  do 
not  know  the  miracle  they  have  wrought,  the  darlings! 
— how  it  would  spoil  it  all  if  they  did — even  as  our  own 
too  vivid  consciousness  of  the  fine  things  we  think  we 
do,  takes  from  them  half  their  fragrance  and  their 
charm. 

The  relation  between  husband  and  wife  is  spiritualized 
after  children  have  come  to  them.  They  feel  now  that 
the  tie  uniting  them, at  first  only  official  and  social, is  now 
sanctified  with  holy  mystery.  They  are  in  the  presence 
of  the  secret  of  the  universe.  The  link  between  them  has 
gone  beyond  themselves  and  exists  in  a  third  person  who 
unites  their  characters  and  their  souls.  God  has  put 
His  divine  sanction  upon  the  marriage  in  the  living 
offspring  that  follows  it — the  perpetual  miracle  of  crea- 
tion. How  then  can  we,  dare  we,  through  the  medium 
of  divorce,  tear  asunder  these  sacred  bonds  that  involve 
not  only  ourselves — but  new  immortal  souls — the  chil- 
dren ?  Such  marriage  cannot  be  divorced;  it  exists  for- 
ever in  the  child,  whether  we  will  or  not — for  we  have 
called  upon  the  laws  of  God  and  nature  to  create  ever- 
lasting witnesses  to  it.  We  cannot  go  back;  we  have 
burnt  our  bridges  behind  us  and  must  fulfil  our  duty  to 
the  end.  At  least,  so  it  has  always  seemed  to  me. 

Therefore  do  not  encourage  others  to  marry  lightly* 
taking  into  account  external  considerations  only,  but 
solemnly,as  though  divorce  were  not  possible;  for  better, 
for  worse,  till  death.  Marriage  is  the  union  of  souls 
not  of  estates. 

Still,  once  married,  however  unfortunate  the  union 
may  be,  the  presence  of  the  child  then  should  keep  hus- 


band  and  wife  together,  if  from  a  sense  of  duty  only. 
But  I  am  sure  its  influence  goes  much  further  than  that. 
The  child  is  often  the  conciliator  between  mother  and 
father.  The  care  of  the  child  especially  during  illness 
often  helps  to  unite  estranged  parents  where  nothing 
else  would.  In  the  presence  of  the  danger  to  the  one 
beloved  by  both  alike,  they  hush  their  own  quarrels  and 
reproaches  as  though  they  were  sinful.  Again  "the 
babe  stills  the  avenger  and  the  enemy."  In  that 
one  interest,  dear  to  both,  they  forget  themselves, 
and  each  is  glad  to  aid  the  other  in  their  devotion 
to  the  flickering  child-life.  And  even  though,  alas  !  love 
should  have  altogether  died  out  between  them,  with 
naught  but  gall  and  rancor  left,  this  common  sympathy 
will  help  to  bring  them  together.  It  may  tend  even 
to  rekindle  a  something  of  the  old  affection.  For 
human  feelings  fluctuate,  and  are  not  the  same  at  all 
times. 

Parents  may  not  often  or  ever  be  aware  of  the  influ- 
ence their  children  exert  over  them.  Some  parents  feel 
the  responsibility  more  keenly  than  others.  Nearly  all 
struggle  industriously  to  provide  ample  means  for  the 
children  against  the  time  that  they  will  be  taken  from 
them,  and  are  thus  made  thrifty.  But  some  go  further 
yet,  and  try  to  be  noble  because  of,  their  children,  keep 
from  certain  temptations  and  certain  baseness,  if  only 
for  their  sakes.  Even  if  they  erroneously  supposed  that 
parental  sin  is  not  visited  upon  offspring,  still  they 
refrain  from  giving  way  to  their  worst  selves  out  of  a 
sense  of  honor  towards  those  they  love  so  well.  Their 
good  opinion  is  dearer  to  the  parent  than  that  of  all  the 
world.  And  their  silent  rebuke  is  more  dreadful  than 
public  shame.  For  we  can't  be  hypocrites  before  our 
own  children,  even  if,  God  forbid,  we  wished  to  be,  and 
they  will  always  know  us  to  be  what  we  are,  although 


s.rf 


their  love  for  us  and  their  sense   ot"   filial  duty  will  see* 
our  failings  as  "leaning  to  virtue's  side." 

"Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  hast  thou  established 
strength."  They  are  our  teachers  in  many  ways  if  we 
will  but  observe  them.  Watch  them  at  play,  and  you 
will  see  the  reflections  of  yourselves.  There  is  selfish- 
ness, kindness,  cruelty,  forgiveness,  spite,  sorrow,  re- 
morse, obstinacy,  pity  in  that  little  nursery  world.  They 
play  with  dolls  and  balls  and  wooden  soldiers,  and  the 
desire  to  possess  these  things  and  to  do  certain  things 
with  them  brings  out  nearly  every  human  trait.  Study 
them,  and  you  will  realize  that  "men  are  but  children  of 
a  larger  growth."  All  our  schemes  and  tricks  for  posts 
of  honor,  for  social  distinction,  for  grabbing  the  largest 
slice,  for  overthrowing  a  rival,  are  but  the  children  play- 
ing with  the  puppets  on  a  larger  scale.  To  Gulliver,  the 
miniature  Lilliputians  with  their  fleet  and  their  armies, 
must  have  seemed  like  so  many  children  playing  at  life; 
while,  on  the  other  hand  to  the  enormous  Brobdingna- 
gians,  the  tiny  Gulliver's  talk  of  his  own  government, 
their  laws  and  their  social  customs,  must  have  seemed  a 
joke  not  worthy  serious  consideration.  You  cannot 
despise  the  children  without  despising  yourselves.  And 
when  I  have  watched  politicians  scrambling  for  a  sena- 
torship  or  a  judgeship,  I  have  thought  of  boys  scrambling 
for  a  top.  What  is  there  superior  in  women  quarreling 
over  petty  personalities  and  petty  preferences  to  little 
girls  spitefully  fighting  over  their  dolls?  Looking  back 
at  past  history,  at  the  wars  of  kings  for  affairs  of 
"honor, "for  territory,  or  diplomatic  slight,  is  it  not  as 
contemptible  as  the  sham-fighting  between  the  wooden 
soldiers  on  the  toy-box?  With  these  differences — first, 
that  the  adult  children  at  least  were  old  enough  to  know 
better,  and  secondly,  that  the  children's  toy  war  does  no 
harm.  -But  the  monarchs  who  make  men  their  pawns 
do  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  them  in  their  larger  game. 


'  / 
9 


Let  us  be  wise  enough  to  learn  the  life  lessons  our 
children  are  daily  teaching  us.  Let  us  humbly  sit  at 
their  feet  sometimes,  and  take  to  heart  the  warnings  that 
God  sends  us  through  these  tender  little  messengers. 
Let  them  teach  us  to  be  more  manly,  more  womanly. 
Let  us  have  done  with  cramping  pettiness,  and  leaving 
to  the  children  all  shallow  toys,  all  whims  and  fancies, 
iet  us  rise  and  busy  ourselves  with  earnest  work  more 
worthy  of  our  matured  experience. 

We  are  all  children  in  the  sight  of  God.  In  His  larger 
vision,  all  our  penetration  is  obscurity  and  haze.  In  His 
infinite  purpose,  all  our  plans  seem  small  and  insuffi- 
cient. In  His  eternal  wisdom,  all  our  vaunted  knowledge 
seems  but  as  the  prattle  of  a  little  child.  Be  humble, 
then. 

"Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  hast  thou 
established  strength."  Children  help  to  equalize  the 
social  distinctions  of  life.  They  come  alike  to  the  tene- 
ment and  the  palace.  There  is  no  monopoly  here.  We 
are  all  on  one  level.  Wealth,  station,  culture,  have  here 
no  privileges.  The  humblest  housewife  with  her  child 
is  a  queen  to  be  envied  ;  the  queen,  without  one,  is  a  for- 
lorn woman  to  be  pitied.  "One  touch  of  nature  makes 
the  whole  world  kin."  And  fondling  our  children, 
tending  them,  suffering  for  them  and  rejoicing  with 
them,  we  are  one  humanity.  Thus  children  are  the  true 
levellers,  teaching  not  a  vulgar,  but  a  noble  equality 
between  us  all. 

"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  hast  thou  founded  strength 
because  of  thine  enemies."  Who  are  God's  enemies, 
and  in  what  way  can  the  infant  strength  overthrow 
them  ?  God's  enemies  are  His  deniers,  but  the  child  is 
God's  witness.  I  need  no  further  arguments  to  prove 
to  me  God's  existence.  Shut  up  your  books  of  wordy 
evidence  ;  look  at  the  child — that  is  evidence  enough. 


10 


Atheism  may  loudly  shout  its  defiance  ;  that  child  there 
silences  it.  It  has  come  out  of  the  infinite  into  the  defi- 
nite. It  is  almost  the  visible  presence  of  God,  and  if  we 
have  never  learned  to  worship,  surely  the  gift  of  a  child 
should  be  sufficient  inspiration.  If  the  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God,  then  the  child  declares  the  love  of 
God. 

But  the  atheists  are  not  the  only  enemies  of  God,  nor 
the  worst.  They  deny  God  in  their  arguments,  but  some 
deny  God  in  their  lives.  The  former  do  not  believe  in 
God,  but  the  latter  do  not  act  God  ;  they  are  not  godly. 
Such  are  the  adversaries  of  the  Eternal.  Can  the  child 
silence  them?  Perhaps,  it  can.  A  child  can  some- 
times reform  a  life,  as  a  little  infant  reformed  the  life  of 
Amos  Barton,  and  changed  it  from  its  sour  hardness  to 
soft  human  ness  again.  The  child  Isaac  taught  Abraham 
that  human  sacrifice  must  be  sinful.  It  was  a  glorious 
revelation  of  God  through  the  boy.  We  cannot  attempt 
to  give  the  record  of  all  these  little  ministers  who  have 
done  God's  work  on  earth,  by  ennobling  the  heart  of 
man.  Some  ancient  barbarians  prayed  for  sons,  that 
they  might  live  after  them  to  revenge  their  enemies;  but 
many  generations  of  children  have  softened  these  feel- 
ings, and  men  hope  for  sons  and  daughters  "  to  still  the 
avenger,"  to  perpetuate  among  mankind  the  best  they 
inherit,  taking  it  down  to  the  ages. 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHERS. 


^ lie  Sins  of  the    Fathers  " 


The  first  time  you  read  the  latter  portion  of  the  Second 
Commandment,  it  may  strike  you  as  stern  and  discourag- 
ing. "Visiting  the  iniquity  of  the  parents  upon  the 
children,  even  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of 
them  that  hate  Me,  but  showing  mercy  unto  thousands 
of  them  that  love  Me  and  keep  My  Commandments." 

Why  should  the  children  suffer  for  the  errors  of  their 
ancestors,  and  is  it  actually  the  case  ?  Yes,  it  is.  \Ve 
inherit  our  parents'  sins  with  their  features  and  the  color 
of  their  hair.  They  give  us  their  passions  and  their 
vices  as  well  as  their  wealth  and  estates.  Their  reputa- 
tion is  our  legacy  for  good  or  for  evil.  We  share  their 
name  and  with  it  the  conditions  that  the  name  has 
earned. 

Yet  look  at  it  from  the  side  of  the  parent.  You  are  a 
father  and  you  love  your  children  with  a  depth  of  devo- 
tion that  hesitates  at  no  sacrifice.  You  rejoice  to  suffer 
and  to  strive  that  they  may  know  no  care;  and  dear  as 
your  desire  for  your  own  success  is,  their's  is  equally 
dear  to  your  heart.  Now  think  of  it,  if,  as  a  young  man 
you  are  self-indulgent,  and  careless,  if  you  lead  a  fast 
wanton,  reckless  career,  you  hand  down  to  the 
children  that  come  to  you  later,  your  broken  constitution 
and  delicate  health.  Perhaps  even  your  grandchildren, 
born  after  you  are  dead,  may  be  consumptive  because  of 
your  excesses.  With  that  consequence  before  you,  will 
you  not  pause  well  before  sinning?  Will  not  every  act 
of  yours  be  now  freighted  with  a  responsibility  that 
compels  you  to  live  and  act  as  though  a  hundred  lives 
depended  upon  yours?  And  they  do.  Our  sins  outlive 
us  to  fall  upon  the  heads  of  those  we  love  most.  "Tis  a 


dreadful  penalty — none  more  dreadful.  Yet  \ve  would 
not  have  it  otherwise.  We  thank  God  that  He  has  made 
us  as  He  has,  linking  our  lives  with  others,  making  us 
responsible  creatures;  thus  giving  to  duty  a  new  induce- 
ment, and  to  evil,  a  ne\v  horror.  'Tis  elevating  to  our 
dignity  that  our  deeds  should  mean  so  much.  It  reminds 
us  of  our  kinship  with  God. 

Forget  not,  too,  the  other  side  "showing  mercv  unto 
thousands  of  them  that  love  Me  and  keep  My  Command, 
ments."  The  good  we  do  is  also  registered  in  our 
offspring  and  perpetuated  in  distant  posterity.  It  is 
even  farther-reaching  than  evil  for  that  descends  "to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation,"  while  godliness  extendeth 
•'unto  thousands."  Never  was  Shakespeare  more  unjust 
than  when  he  said: 

"The  evil  that  men  do,  live  after  them,  the  good  is  oft  interred 
with  their  bones." 

If  Louis  XIV'S  vices  caused  his  great-grandson,  Louis 
XVI,  to  lose  his  head,  Jochanan  ben  Zackhi's  unselfish 
zeal  in  asking  of  Rome,  a  religious  school  for  his  people 
instead  of  honors  for  himself,  bore  its  good  fruit  in 
every  later  generation.  Yes,  the  result  of  his  goodness 
is  with  us  still,  if  our  existence  to-day  as  a  distinct 
religious  individuality,  be  deemed  a  benefit  and  a  boon. 
That  Adam's  sin  cursed  mankind  to  all  eternity,  is  but 
an  imaginary  conception,  but  that  Abraham's  godliness 
brought  blessing  to  all  the  families  of  the  earth  by  teach- 
ing them  spiritual  divinity,  we  may  broadly  accept  as  a 
truth. 

I  will  go  further,  and  on  the  basis  of  the  Second  Com- 
mandment, deciare  that  goodness  is  never  lost,  but  is 
immortal.  The  world  to-day  is  living  on  the  goodness 
ol  bygone  men  and  women.  The  product  of  their  brains 
and  their  hearts,  their  struggles  and  their  martyrdoms 
for  freedom,  for  education,  for  purity,  for  justice,  we  are 


enjoying  now.  Say  the  Rabbins,  "all  Israel  should 
consider  that  it  stood  at  Sinai."  All  Israel  enjoys  the 
vital  helpfulness  of  its  commands.  The  good  wrought 
by  Micah,  bv  Hillel,  by  Socrates,  by  Lincoln,  is  not  yet 
exhausted — it  never  will  be.  The  concentrated  essence 
of  past  virtue,  past  kindness,  past  love  is  a  perennial 
fount  nourishing  the  children  of  endless  ages. 
The  good  are  with  us  still. 

"In  pulsec  stirred  to  generosity 

In  thoughts  sublime  that  pierce  the  night  like  stars." 

Their  worth    becomes, 

"The  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony,  enkindles  generous 
ardoi. 

"And  is  the  sweet  presence  of  a  good  diffused." 

If  I  said  that  the  spread  of  evil  beyond  the  evil-doer 
is  the  severest  form  of  punishment,  surely  the  perpetua- 
tion of  good  is  most  glorious  reward.  Right  becomes 
doubly  worth  achieving,  since  it  is  to  yield  everlasting 
interest  to  be  enjoyed  by  future  generations. 

But  now  a  thousand  years  after  Moses,  the  prophet 
Ezekiel  made  this  startling  declaration  : 

"What  mean  you  that  you  use  this  proverb:  The 
fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes  and  the  children's  teeth 
are  set  on  edge?  Use  it  no  more.  The  soul  that  sinneth 
it  shall  die.  But  if  a  man  be  just  and  do  that  which  is 
lawful  and  right — he  shall  surely  live.  If  a  man  beget 
a  son  that  seeth  all  his  father's  sin,  yet  doeth  not  such 
like,  he  shall  not  die  for  the  iniquity  of  his  father — he 
shall  surely  live.  The  son  shall  not  bear  the  sin  of  the 
father,  neither  shall  the  father  bear  the  sin  of  the  son; 
the  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  This  certainly  reads 
like  a  blunt  renunciation  of  the  Second  Commandment. 

Ezekiel  s  reasoning  seems  very  reasonable.  It  at  once 
appeals  to  our  common  sense.  Yet  we  have  also  shown 
the  profound  truth  that  the  Mosaic  principle  bears.  Yet 
can  two  statements  that  are  contradictory,  both  be  right? 


Are  they  contradictory  ?  May  they  not  both  be  different 
phases  of  a  larger  truth  ?  I  do  not  think  Ezekiel  wished 
to  contradict  the  Law  in  this  instance.  I  think  he  wished 
to  remove  a  mistake  that  arose  from  a  too  literal  inter- 
pretation of  the  Commandment.  There  was  a  cry  for 
individuality  and  personal  responsibility  in  his  day. 
The  individual  wished  to  be  heard  and  not  to  be  lost  in 
the  community.  He  did  not  want  to  feel  that  the  sins  of 
his  ancestors  made  his  own  salvation  hopeless,  or  that 
he  must  go  through  life  bearing  the  burden  of  their 
wrong. 

If  Moses,  the  Lawgiver  was  right,  Ezekiel  the  prophet 
was  right  too.  We  do  not  put  one  man  in  prison  for 
another  man's  crime.  Christianity's  doctrine  of'vicarious 
atonement"  has  always  been  repugnant  not  only  to 
Judaism,  but  to  practical  Law;  and  Moses'  offer  to  die 
for  Israel's  sin  with  the  Golden  Calf  was  rejected  on  the 
ground  of  personal  accountability  for  sin. 

What  is  the  whole  truth  ?  The  mistakes  of  the  parent 
do  handicap  the  children,  but  do  not  absolute1)' condemn 
them.  And  if  in  spite  of  bad  parental  example  and 
inherited  vice,  they  can  by  individual  struggle  overcome 
the  lower  self,  the  greater  is  their  merit  and  the  more 
ready  is  the  world  to  recognize  it.  That  is  why  so  many 
of  you  deserve  praise,  who  born  to  poverty  have  acquired 
opulence — bred  im  ignorance,  have  gained  knowledge. 
Much  depends  on  what  we  inherit  from  parents  and 
ancestry,  but  not  everything.  We  are  free  agents.  Do 
not  then  for  a  moment  excuse  your  faults  on  the  plea 
of  inherited  traits,  or  throw  the  responsibility  of  your 
viciousness  on  the  shoulders  of  those  gone  before. 

Sometimes  ancestral  disadvantages  react  in  our  favor, 
as  privation  often  develops  sterling  qualities.  The 
awful  example  of  a  bad  father  may  fill  the  child  with 
such  horror,  that  from  this  specific  sin  at  least,  it  will 


flee  in  terror.  In  this  way  m:my  children  of  drunkards 
become  teetotallers.  Then  again  the  same  trait  inherited 
in  a  milder  form,  becomes  a  something  else.  We  may 
modify  an  inherited  obstinacy  into  firmness,  an  inherited 
weakness  into  gentleness,  inherited  severity  into  exact- 
ness. \\re  can  do  so  much  with  ourselves,  if  we  will 
but  try.  Our  qualities  and  failings  are  not  iron-cast; 
they  are  plastic  and  may  be  moulded.  If  we  determined 
not  to  improve  on  our  parents,  the  world  would  never 
grow  wiser  or  better. 

There  are  but  too  many,  unfortunately,  who  fall  even 
below  the  example  that  a  pious  mother  and  father  have 
set  them,  who  suppress  the  goodness  they  have  inherited, 
who  modify  inherited  dignity  into  vanity  and  inherited 
justice  into  harshness.  Thus  we  see  the  sad  sight  of  the 
scapegrace  son  of  an  honored  father,  or  the  flighty  girl> 
who,  early  trained  in  the  way  she  should  go,  when  of 
age  deliberately  departs  from  it.  Il  pains  me  to  see  a 
new  generation  springing  up  vain,  shallow  and  self- 
indulgent — a  sad  falling  off  from  the  rugged  simplicity 
of  their  parents —young  people  who,  because  they  have 
a  glib  tongue  and  a  certain  veneer  of  polish,  think  them- 
selves superior  to  their  parents,  those  pure-hearted* 
faithful  souls.  If  these  flippant  creatures  but  knew  that 
they  are  not  fit  to  touch  the  hern  of  the  garments  of 
their  pirents,  for,  old-fashioned  and  narrow  though  they 
may  be,  they  are  staunch  and  loyal  and  tender  all 
through. 

It  is  sad  to  see  the  lesson  of  a  noble  life  wasted  on 
thoughtless,  selfish  children,  who,  instead  of  appreciating 
the  sacrifices  daily  made  for  them,  and  learning  to  be 
come  co.nsiderate  in  return,  take  these  sacrifices  as  mat- 
ter of  course,  as  something  due  them — their  right — and 
tyrannize  over  their  parents  if  they  do  not  slave  to 
supply  their  luxuries. 


8 


It  may  be  hard  that  the  sins  of  the  parents  should  be 
visited  on  the  children,  but  it  is  harder  that  the  virtues 
of  the  parents  should  be  lost  upon  the  children.  Do  \ve 
not  daily  see  people  deliberately  debase  themselves,  with 
righteousness  in  the  persons  of  their  parents  standing 
perpetually  before  them  ?  See  them  go  from  the  home 
of  sanctity  to  the  haunt  of  vice,  thus  bringing  the  fair 
name  they  inherit — won  through  a  hard  struggle — down 
into  the  dust,  and  bowing  with  shame  and  bitterness  the 
hoary  head  of  a  sterling  father  and  a  devoted  mother  in 
their  mad  pursuit  of  disgusting,  degrading  revelries  ! 

Is  this  not  reversing  the  law  that  the  command  and 
Nature  herself  teaches,  and  visiting  the  sins  of  guilty 
children  upon  innocent  parents? 

Let  us  advance  a  step  further  in  the  complex  moral 
problem  presented  by  the  Second  •Commandment. 

We  fall  into  the  habit  of  talking  ot  "the  good"  and 
"the  bad  "  as  though  a  sharp  wall  of  distinction  sepa- 
rated the  one  class  from  the  other.  Now,  we  know  very 
well  that  in  real  life  such  is  not  the  case.  Who  are  the 
wicked,  whose  sins  go  down  to  a  third  and  fourth  gen- 
eration ?  Who  are  the  righteous,  whose  good  extendeth 
unto  thousands  ?  "The  soul  that  sinneth.it  shall  die," 
says  Ezekiel.  Can  you  say,  can  I,  in  whom  sin  prepon- 
derates, so  that,  tested  in  the  balance,  the  evil  outweigh- 
ing the  good,  he  would  be  found  wanting?  We  all 
flatter  ourselves  that  we  are  fairly  good,  and  it  can  be 
easily  seen  how  we  come  to  form  a  favorable  opinion  of 
ourselves. 

We  grow  accustomed  to  that  which  is  always  with  us, 
learn  to  tolerate  it,  and  even  to  like  it.  Now,  we  are 
always  with  ourselves.  For  this  reason,  most  people 
approve  of  themselves,  however  detestable  they  may  be 
to  everybody  else.  They  pet  and  fondle  their  failings, 
until  they  almost  look  like  virtues.  Then,  again,  they 


set  their  good  points  over  against  their  bad  points. 
One  will  soliloquize  to  himself,  "I  may  not  be  truthful, 
but  then,  see  how  benevolent  I  am  !"  and  so.  on  the 
strength  of  his  benevolence,  he  continues  lying.  An- 
other condones  his  want  of  consideration  for  the  poor 
and  unfortunate  by  his  unfailing  fidelity  to  his  family  ; 
another  makes  his  industry  do  penance  for  his  lust.  As 
against  this,  let  me  formulate  this  maxim  :  To  acquiesce 
in  our  bad  qualities  on  the  strength  of  our  good  quali 
ties  is  fatal  to  all  improvement.  Your  vice  must  stand 
alone  in  all  its  hideousness  ;  it  is  no  more  lessened  or 
compensated  or  atoned  for  by  an  amiable  quality,  than  a 
man  who  is  overeating  himself  in  one  place  can  com- 
pensate for  one  who  is  starving  somewhere  else.  You 
stand  before  God  in  your  sinfulness  and  in  your  virtue, 
and  if  you  wish  to  make  that  virtue  a  sort  of  moral  bank 
account  on  which  you  can  draw  for  your  evil  doings, 
then  I  say  that  that  very  virtue  becomes  a  kind  of  evil. 
You  taint  your  nobler  side  if  it  serve  to  encourage  your 
infamous  side.  Better  no  amiable  traits  if  they  be  but 
used  as  excuses  for  the  continuance  of  vices.  We  don't 
want  men  who  are  generous,  but  unprincipled  ;  we  don't 
want  women  who  are  affectionate,  but  treacherous.  We 
want  good  men  and  women,  not  moral  monstrosities. 

"The  sins  of  the  fathers  shall  be  visited  upon  the 
children,  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation." 

Now,  one  of  the  doctrines  of  sentiment  of  Judaism 
teaches:  "All  Israel  are  responsible  one  for  the  other. " 
We  Hebrews  are  but  an  enlarged  family.  We  suffer  for 
the  sins  of  our  Israelilic  ancestors,  and  we  enjoy  their 
merits.  In  many  of  the  prayers  of  our  Ritual  we  ask 
forgiveness  for  the  sake  of  the  virtues  of  "  the  fathers." 

\\  e  keenly  recognize  how  closely  our  reputation  is 
bound  up  with  that  of  our  co-religionists.  If  a  Jew 
disgraces  himself,  our  cheeks  burn  with  shame  :  if  a  Jew 


IO 


distinguishes  himself,  our  hearts  kindle  with  pride.  One 
black  sheep  injures  the  reputation  of  all  of  us  One 
Emma  Lazarus  raises  the  world's  respect  for  the  whole 
race.  Is  not,  then,  one's  responsibility  as  Jew  almost  as 
great  as  his  responsibility  as  father?  Our  people  as 
well  as  our  children  have  to  bear  our  sins.  We  know 
that  many  a  Gentile  will  condemn  every  Israelite  on  the 
globe,  because  the  solitary  Israelite  he  met  was  vulgar 
or  dishonest.  If  you  care  for  your  fellow-Hebrews  then, 
look  to  your  character  and  your  manners.  Be  a  gentle- 
man, be  a  lady,  in  the  noblest  sense  in  which  these  words 
are  understood,  for  their  sakes  as  well  as  for  your  own, 
and  strive  by  your  individual  worth  to  force  the  world's 
esteem  for  the  Jew. 

We  are  members  of  the  human  race  as  well  as  of  the 
Jewish  race.  Need  I  remind  you  of  your  accountability 
to  mankind?  Need  I  remind  you  of  the  influence  of 
example?  A  stone  dropped  in  the  water  creates  a  cir- 
cular ripple,  followed  by  another  circle  larger  in  size 
but  fainter  in  form,  and  the  series  of  circles  continue  to 
grow  larger  but  fainter,  until  the  surface  of  the  water  is 
quiet  once  more.  Each  deed,  worthy  or  unworthy,  is  as 
a  stone  dropped  in  the  depths  of  society,  that  imme- 
diately creates  a  ripple  of  influence  within  the  circle  of 
its  nearest  surroundings,  and  the  impression  is  felt  at  a 
greater  radius  of  distance  in  place  and  time,  though  in  a 
fainter  degree,  and,  growing  fainter  as  it  reaches  further, 
the  effect  finally  dies  out.  But  it  is  scientifically  claimed 
that  though  imperceptible  to  our  eyes  that  series  of  rip- 
ples on  the  surface  of  the  water  caused  by  the  falling 
stone  continue  perpetually  until  stopped  by  counteract- 
ing influences.  Can  we  say  how  far  the  consequences 
of  our  deeds  reach,  or  where  they  end,  if  they  ever  do  ? 
Can  we  trace  the  intricate  results  of  our  actions  upon 
the  actions  and  the  circumstances  and  the  characters  of 


n 

others,  and  then  trace  the  further  results  of  those  change5 
upon  new  actions  and  new  character?  Divinity  alone 
can  take  up  the  tangled  thread  of  perpetually  interwoven 
human  influences.  But,  on  the  same  principle,  we  can 
readily  understand  how  a  city  could  be  saved  by  ten 
righteous  men— by  the  gradual  extension  of  their  influ- 
ence. We  are  each  of  us  one  of  the  ten — one  of  the  ten 
that  save  it,  or  one  of  the  ten  that  destroy  it.  One  of 
ten  that  injures  it.  even  to  its  third  and  its  fourth  gen- 
eration, one  of  the  ten  that  helps  it  for  a  thousand 
generations — which  will  you  be? 


JL 


PEOPLE    OF    THE.   BOOK, 

A  Bible  History  for  Jewish  Schools,  on  a  new  plan. 

Contains  much  miscellaneous  information   that  will  materially 

assist  the  Teacher  and  make  the  subject  more  interesting 

and  more  instructive  to  the  pupil, 

BV 

MAURICE  H.   HARRIS,  A.  M.,  Ph.  D. 

Rabbi  of  Temple  Israel  of  Harlem,  X.  Y. 


Vol.  1. — From  the  Creation  to  the  Death  of  Moses. 

Second  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged. 

Book  I.— Early  Tradition.  Book  II. — Patriarchal  Ages. 

Book  III.— Exodus.  Book  IV.— Law. 

Book  V. — Close  of  Moses'  Leadership. 

Appendix,  Prayers,  Hymns,  Calendar,  Exam.  Questions,  &fc. 

Vol   II. — From  the  Conquest  to  the  Death  of  Solomon. 
Book  I.     The  Period  of  the  Conquest. 

Book  II.  —  First  Stage  of  the  Monarchy 

Book  III.— The  Rise  of  Judah. 

Vol.  III. — From  the  Secession  to  the  Exile. 
Book  I.— The  Rival  Kingdoms. 

Book  II. — The  Influence  of  the  Prophets. 

Book  III.— The  Survival  of  Judah. 


OPINIONS  OF  THE   PRESS. 

"  Although  made  specially  for  use  by  Hebrews,  it  is  so  simple,  straight- 
forward and  sensible  as  to  deserve  the  attention  of  al!  young  teachers  in  Sunday 
Schools.  The  handling  of  the  early  chapters  in  Genesis  is  admirably  reverent  and 
rational." — N.  Y.  Herald. 

'•  It  is  gratifying  to  find  our  Hebrew  brethren  doing  such  excellent  work  for 
their  Sunday  Schools.  This  little  volume  is  vastly  ahead  in  its  treatment  of  the  Old 
Testament  of  the  great  mass  of  literature  on  this  subject  prepared  for  children.  '— 
Christian  Kenster. 


5O  cents  each  Volume  or  55. 4O  per  Oozen. 


PHILIP  COWEN,  213-215  EAST  44TH  STREET, 

NEW  YORK. 


MICAH'S  CREED-I. 


Micali's  Creed. 


I.     JUSTICE  AND  KINDNESS. 

"Wherewith  shtll  I  come  before  the  Lord  and  bow  myself  before 
the  high  God  ?  Shall  I  come  before  Him  with  burnt-offerings,  with 
calves  of  a  year  old  ?  Will  the  Lord  be  pleased  with  thousands  of 
rams  or  with  ten  thousand  river,s  of  oil  ?  Shall  I  give  my  first-born 
for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body,  for  the  sin  of  my  soul? 
He  hath  shewed  thee  O  man  what  is  good ;  and  what  doth  the 
Lord  rtquire  of  thee,  but  to  do  justice,  to  love  kindness,  and  to 
walk  humbly  wiih  thy  God.  Micah  vi,  68-. 

Micah  states  his  conclusion  in  the  form  of  a  self- 
evident  truth.  As  such,  certainly,  it  appeals  to  us.  But 
in  the  days  of  the  prophet  it  was  by  no  means  such  an 
accepted  truism  as  he  tries  to  present  it.  Although  he 
declares  "  it  hath  been  shown  thee,  O  man,"  the  convic- 
tion had  not  yet  struck  home.  "Burnt-offerings  and 
calves  of  a  year  old"  were  still  regarded  as  the  prime 
features  of  worship.  The  popular  conception  of  Jehovah 
was  slill  that  of  an  earthly  king  and  an  Eastern  despot 
at  that,  \vho  must  be  approached  with  substantial 
presents  if  his  wrath  is  to  be  appeased, .and  who  would 
often  impose  cruel  exactions  as  the  condition  of  his 
favor. 

'•  What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  be  just, 
kind  and  humble."  Micah  does  not  intend  here  to  give 
us  a  complete  summary  of  religious  duties.  It  is  but  a 
hasty  generalization  in  which  we  detect  an  implied 
reproach,  4t  What  does  God  require  of  man — nothing — 
for  Himself;  to  Him  everything  belongs."  "Be  just  and 
kind  to  your  fellowmen,  that's  all  He  wants."  Righteous- 
ness to  man  sums  up  obligation  to  God.  The  old- 
fashioned  catechisms  divide  duty  into  two  parts — duty 
to  God  and  duty  to  man.  I  do  not  think  these  two  can 


be  separated,  and  it  is  unfortunate  that  it  was  ever 
attempted.  It  has  led  in  the  first  place  to  the  division 
into  religion  and  ethics  of  what  should  always  have 
an  inseparable  whole.  It  has  encouraged  the  fallacy 
that  the  ceremonies  of  the  sanctuary  and  the  dogmas  of 
theology  were  distinct  from,  and  occasionally  even 
opposed  to  the  duties  of  humanity.  "Shall  I  bring  the 
fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul,"  asks  Micah  ? 
The  sacrifice  of  the  children  to  Moloch  and  to  other 
heathen  divinities  was  a  religious  behest,  commanded  by 
the  priests  of  Baal.  This  awful  temptation  of  their 
surroundings  was  a  perpetual  menace  to  Israel.  And  in 
spite  of  the  burning  protests  of  the  later  prophets 
against  the  unnatural  and  revolting  rite,  some  yielded 
to  this  cruei  example.  Even  the  doctrine  of  vicarious 
atonement  —  the  belief  that  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  atoned  for  the  sins  of  man,  is  really  a  rem- 
nant of  the  old  superstition,  "  How  to  get  rid  of  sin," 
how  to  compensate  for  it,  was  the  bugbear  of  scholastic 
theology  for  centuries. 

Micah  answers  his  own  question  in  a  thunderous  "Xo! 
He  hath  told  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good,  "indicating  first, 
that  animal  and  human  sacrifice  are  not  good,  and  indi- 
cating secondly  that  what  Israel's  God  requires  must  be 
good.  Where  had  it  been  told?  At  Sinai.  *'Thow  shalt 
not  murder  nor  commit  adultery,  nor  steal,  nor  bear 
false  witness,  nor  covet."  This  is  what  God  requires  of 
us  —  love  justice,  kindness,  humility.  A  declaration  such 
as  this  so  completely  appeals  to  our  highest  wisdom  and 
our  noblest  ideals,  that  it  seems  almost  like  religion's 
last  word.  And  perhaps  it  is.  The  prophets  of  the  8th 
and  yth  centuries  reached  the  high  water  mark  of  moral 
teaching.  Their  standard  of  duty  is  an  unattained  ideal 
still.  There  are  no  new  religious  truths  to  teach.  Ah  — 
we  could  but  live  up  to  the  old  ! 


"To  do  justice,  to  love  kindness  and  to  walk  humbly 
with  thy  God."  "To  do  justice."  It  is  said  that  justice 
is  blind  and  in  the  sense  of  being  impartial,  seeing 
neither  party,  friend,  interest  nor  appearance,  this  is 
true.  But  in  no  other  sense,  for  justice  must  have  her 
eyes  open  and  her  ears  too,  she  must  have  all  her  senses 
on  the  alert.  It  is  not  easy  to  be  entirely  just,  even  when 
we  wish  to  be.  We  cannot  be  just  without  wisdom: 
justice  will  grow  as  the  world  becomes  wiser.  To  give 
to  each  his  due,  we  must  first  know  what  his  due  is. 
This  is  not  easy.  We  have  been  centuries  trying  to  find 
out  what  we  owe  to  each  other.  Have  we  for  instance 
been  just  to  women?  To  be  just  to  others  we  must  not 
merely  consider  tangible  things — for  they  are  the  least 
in  life.  We  are  not  just  to  woman  if  we  hamper  her,  if 
we  restrict  her  liberties,  if  we  refuse  to  give  free  play 
and  full  opportunity  to  the  expansion  of  her  brain  and 
her  soul.  This  we  have  not  done  in  the  past.  This  we 
are  only  beginning  to  do  now. 

Have  we  fulfilled  our  obligations  to  our  children?  Do 
not  forget  that  we  may  be  generous  and  yet  not  just.  We 
may  lavish  bounties  upon  them  and  yet  not  be  just  to 
them,  in  not  permitting  them  to  develop  their  own 
individuality.  It  is  natural  that  parents  should  wish 
their  children  to  accept  all  things  in  the  light  in  which 
they  do  and  to  conform  to  their  ideas,  but  is  not  always 
right.  Remember  they  are  distinct  from  us  with  different 
personalities.  We  cannot  always  measure  the  depths  of 
their  nature.  We  dare  not  tyrannically  suppress  or 
ignore  their  yearnings.  It  is  the  soul  crying  for  ligh 
and  air.  Xor  need  it  make  us  sad  that  we  cannot  under- 
stand them,  or  that  they  go  a  different  way,  provided  it 
be  a  good  way.  Rejoice  in  their  higher  growth,  in  their 
righteous  independence.and  thank  God  that  He  has  per- 
mitted you,  the  old  stock,  to  bear  so  fair  a  blossom. 


We  talk  a  good  deal  of  our  duties  to  the  lower 
working  classes;  and  since  their  supply  of  worldly 
goods  is  small,  and  their  battle  for  life  fiercer,  it  is 
certainly  our  duty  to  ask  whether  it  is  just  that  we 
should  have  so  much,  and  they  so  little.  And  although 
equality,  even  of  substance,  is  one  of  those  delusions 
that  sensible  people  have  long  given  up,  and  although, 
too,  happiness  does  not  vary  precisely  with  income,  still 
we  should  see  to  it  rigidly,  that  in  the  pursuit  of  our 
avocation,  we  are  unjustly  depriving  no  man.  But  what 
I  am  also  anxious  to  point  out  is  that  something  is  owed 
to  the  higher  classes  too,  by  those  standing  at  the  other 
social  extreme.  There  is  no  justification  for  speaking 
of  them  with  contempt,  as  though  they  were  good  for 
nothing,  or  with  indignation  as  though  they  were  little 
better  than  criminals.  Coming  down  to  sober  truth 
they  are  simply  guilty  of  being  successful:  they  stand 
where  those  who  condemn  them  would  stand  if  they  had 
a  chance.  People  do  not  necessarily  become  wealthy 
because  they  are  selfish  any  more  than  people  always 
become  poor  because  they  are  shiftless.  The  idle  and 
selfish  are  found  indiscriminately  among  both  classes. 
If  it  be  bitterly  said  that  poverty  has  been  called  a  crime, 
bear  in  mind  wealth  has  been  considered  a  crime  too — 
a  crime  worthy  of  death  thought  the  French  peasantry 
of  the  last  century,  and  the  anarchists  of  this.  Declares 
the  Bible  of  our  neighbors  "  it  is  harder  for  a  rich  man 
to  enter  Heaven  than  for  a  camel  to  enter  the  eye  of  a 
needle."*  I  think  it  is  imporiant  that  we  should  teach 
the  poor  to  be  just  to  the  rich,  just  because  the  duty  is 
not  so  evident,  and  is  usually  ignored. 

Indeed  we  are  every  one  of  us  too  hasty,  in  our  whole- 

*"Eye  of  a  needle  "is  explained  to-day  as  the  side,  smaller 
entrance  for  passengers,  which  the  camel  at  times  tried  in  vain  to 
enter. 


sale  condemnations  of  certain  classes.  We  censure  the 
corruption  of  the  politician  and  the  lewdness  of  the 
actress,  but  we  do  not  always  consider  their  temptations. 
A  good  old  proverb  reminds  us  to  "give  even  the  devil 
his  due."  We  condemn  the  criminal  class  in  one  sweep- 
ing denunciation,  ignoring  inherited  viciousness* 
depraved  environment  and  the  host  of  conditions  that 
decide  tendencies.  We  are  seldom  just  to  our  friends  or 
our  enemies,  partial  towards  the  former,  prejudiced 
against  the  latter  We  excuse  those  we  love  much  too 
easily,  and  give  amiable  names  to  their  weaknesses.  We 
ascribe  bad  motives  to  the  most  innocent  actions  of  those 
we  don't  like;  we  see  snare  and  design  in  all  they  say; 
we  give  them  credit  for  no  disinterested  good.  Malice 
is  a  bad  historian.  Judaism  has  never  asked  you  to 
''love  your  enemies,"  but,  oh  !  if  you  could  but  be  just  to 
them. 

"Do  justice."  Yes  grudgingly  we  do.  Nations  grant 
each  other  justice  at  the  cannon's  mouth,  under  the 
moral  persuasion  of  gunpowder.  Some  grant  justice 
when  they  can  withhold  it  no  longer,  when  they  hear  an 
official  rap  upon  their  doors,  "open  in  the  name  of  the 
law."  Bolts  and  bars  and  police  have  to  make  up  for 
the  deficiency  of  justice  in  some  of  us.  Our  due  is  not 
always  given,  at  times  it  has  to  be  wrested  Many  respect 
not  the  law,  but  the  organized  power  that  is  behind  to 
enforce  it. 

Yet  for  the  justification  of  human  nature  let  me  add 
that  not  a  few  have  to  be  reminded  to  be  just  to  them- 
selves. I  spoke  of  parents  being  unjust  to  their  children. 
This  is  much  less  usual  than  the  uncomplaining  self- 
sacrifice  of  the  parent,  that  wears  itself  out  in  ministering 
to  their  needs.  Often  I  feel  inclined  to  say  to  a  parent, 
stop,  you  are  needlessly  yielding  up  your  vitality  in  your 
devotion  to  your  children,  when  perhaps  they  would 


become  more  reliant,  if  made  to  depend  on  them- 
selves. You  owe  something  to  yourselves.  It  was  never 
intended  that  care  of  children  should  be  a  slavery;  the 
nervous  system  can  only  bear  a  certain  tension  and  then 
it  snaps. 

We  are  often  too  easy  with  our  employe's,  forgiving 
where  we  should  punish.  We  call  it  mercy — it  is  oftener 
weakness.  Don't  forget  that  to  let  a  fault  pass  is  always 
easier  than  to  bring  it  to  justice,  and  that  indolence  is  at 
the  bottom  of  much  of  our  forgiveness.  A  mistaken 
weakness  will  lead  a  housewife  to  give  a  "character  "  to 
an  unreliable  discharged  domestic,  and  thus  endanger 
another  household. 

What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  asks  Micah?  Noth 
ing  but  to  do  justice — Nothing  but — what  a  little  all, that 
is.  Abraham  at  the  gate  of  Sodom  asks  "Shall  not  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  justice?"  Yes,  "He,  the  Rock, 
His  work  is  just."  But  can  we  say  this  of  any  of  our 
work?  Is  not  justice  one  of  the  faces  of  that  many-sided 
perfection  that  is  attained  only  in  Divinity  ! 

•'To  love  kindness"  is  the  prophet's  next  condition. 
Kindness  is  easier  than  justice.  Justice  has  exact  limits, 
to  go  beyond  them  is  to  transgress  it.  Kindness  is  an 
indefinite  realm  and  we  may  wander  where  we  please. 
Justice  needs  sterling  characters  to  fulfill  its  rigid  re- 
quirements, kindness  admits  of  that  broad  latitude  that 
brings  its  performance  within  the  capacity  of  most 
natures. 

And  now  what  is  kindness?  Derivations  help  us  some, 
times  to  get  at  the  heart  of  words.  It  is  of  the  same  root  as 
kin,  which  means  relationship.  Be  kind  to  all.  Treat 
them  as  though  a  tie  of  blood  united  you  to  them.  All 
mankind  should  be  a  brotherhood.  One  touch  of  nature 
— one  common  experience  makes  the  whole  world  kin, 
i.  e.  reminds  us  of  our  kinship.  Not  all  recognize  duties 


even  to  their  actual  relatives.  The  greatest  bitterness 
oft  exists  between  the  nearest  kin.  Cain  is  not  the  only 
one  who  asks  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?"  A  cynic  sar- 
castically congratulates  us  if  we  have  no  relatives.  That 
is  but  a  passing  mood.  Our  hearts  would  grow  numb 
unless  some  living  affections  were  enshrined  there  to 
keep  them  warm.  The  heart  craves  love  as  the  body 
craves  food,  and  finding  none  in  the  home  will  go  forth 
toother  homes  or  even  to  the  homeless,  and  claim  kin- 
ship with  them  by  showing  them  kindness. 

"Do  justice,"  but  some  need  more  than  justice.  At 
times  we  must  measure  what  we  should  do  for  others, 
not  by  our  obligations,  but  by  their  need.  In  the  high- 
est sense  we  owe  toothers  what  we  can  do  for  them  and 
what  they  are  in  want  of.  We  should  rejoice  to  think 
that  we  can  be  helpful — we  should  "lovt  kindness." 
Notice  the  distinction,  do  justice,  but  love  kindness. 
Within  certain  limits  we  are  compelled  to  do  justice,  the 
law  mav  command  it.  But  who  dare  demand  kindness 
of  us!  When  granted  on  demand  it  ceases  to  be  kind 
ness  — it  is  something  else.  Money  is  not  kindness  al- 
though it  pay  the  rent  of  the  poor;  clothing  is  not 
kindness,  although  it  protect  them.  Kindliness  is  a  dis- 
position of  friendliness  towards  others.  It  may  not 
always  take  the  tangible  form  of  gifts  or  bread.  "Not  by 
bread  alone  doth  man  live."  The  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness is  not  a  physical  nutriment.  "Behold  I  will  send  a 
famine  in  the  land,  not  a  famine  of  bread  nor  a  thirst  tor 
water."  Kindness — immediately  we  think  of  feeding  the 
hungry  and  clothing  the  naked.  Is  that  all  the  human 
heart  wants,  the  bodily  needs  of  the  beasts  of  the  field  ? 
The  well-to-do  need  kindness  at  times  as  urgently  as  the 
distressed.  There  are  dark  moments  when  a  word  of 
kindness,  a  silent  hand  pressure  will  save  a  soul  from 
despair  and  a  heart  from  breaking.  Think  not  con- 


temptuously  of  the  kindness  that  is  sympathy,  when 
really  heart  speaks  to  heart,  and  soul  is  knit  to 
soul. 

Be  not  chary  of  your  \vords  when  there  is  feeling 
beiiind  them.  Get  into  the  habit  of  expressing  the  kind 
thoughts  that  pass  through  your  brain  to  those  about 
you — wife  and  children  and  servants  and  persons  you 
meet.  We  know  that  ''words  like  nature  half  reveal  and 
half  conceal  the  thought  within."  Yet  a  broken  effort 
should  be  made  to  express  the  tenderness  and  goodwill 
that  wells  up  in  the  heart.  Why  need  it  go  unrecorded 
and  unenjoyed  like  "  the  rose  that  blushes  unseen  "  and 
•'the  myrtle  in  the  desert."  And  if  you  think  a  man  in 
public  life  has  done  well,  has  earned  your  admiration 
by  fearlessness  and  integrity,  write  and  tell  him  so.  It 
will  help  him  to  further  good,  never  mind  how  great  he 
is  or  how  small  you  are. 

We  all  prefer  to  meet  people  whose  manners  are  kindly 
and  whose  dispositions  are  amiable, — to  those  gruff  and 
curt.  And  yet  here  a  word  of  warning  is  necessary. 
When  actual  help  is  needed  and  you  are  called  upon, 
and  not  wishing  to  say  anything  unpleasant  or  have  the 
applicant  feel  ill-disposed  to  you — you  may  receive  the 
person  smilingly,  utter  some  stereotyped  form  of 
encouragement  and  bow  him  out  with  parting  good-will, 
but  with  no  intention  of  putting  yourself  out  for  him 
one  bit.  I  say  a  thousand  times  rather  give  the  rebuff, 
make  it  as  brutal  as  you  please.  Brutality  is  easier  to 
bear  than  humbug.  Many  persons  don't  like  to  say 
unpleasant  things  because  they  are  always  more  trouble- 
some and  more  disagreeable  to  say  than  pleasant  things. 
They  are  most  affable,  these  people  who  won't  turn  a 
finger  to  help  you,  who  may  even  injure  your  reputation 
by  an  innuendo  here  and  there — smiling  all  the  time  and 
presenting  all  the  externals  of  kindness.  But  we  have 


long  ago  learned    that  one  may  "smile  and  smile  and  be 
a  villain." 

How  a  good  word  from  a  good  man  is  treasured 
through  the  ages.  That  phrase  of  Micah,  "loving  kind- 
ness,'' has  been  compressed  into  one  word  "loving-kind- 
ness," making  it  a  distinct  quality.  Let  us  always  keep 
them  united — that  is,  let  us  never  separate  affection 
from  good  deeds,  but  follow  up  the  kind  feeling  with 
kind  action. 


MICAH'S  CREED-II. 


Mi  call1  s  Creed. 


II.— "WALKING  HUMBLY  WITH  GOD." 
"What  doth  God  require  of  thee,  nothing  but  to  do 
justice,  to  love  kindness  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy 
God."  The  duties  of  justice  and  kindness  are  clear 
enough,  but  what  does  "  walking  humbly  with  God " 
mean  ?  This  phrase  like  so  many  Bible  expressions  may 
perhaps  be  classed  with  those  sentences  that  cannot  be 
explained — they  must  be  felt.  If  we  are  in  sympathy 
with  the  writer  they  are  revelations,  if  not  voluminous 
commentary  will  fail  to  satisfy.  Language  is  like  a  key 
that  put  in  the  lock  that  fits  it,  will  immediately  open 
the  receptacle,  but  is  nearly  always  useless  for  other 
locks.  The  thoughts  of  one  brain  will  fit  the  thoughts 
of  a  certain  other  brain,  and  new  light  will  flash  from 
the  union.  So  we  are  not  all  helped  by  the  same  books; 
Darwin  saw  nothing  in  Shakespeare.  Still  there  are 
many  interpreters  who  can  translate  the  feelings  and 
expressions  of  one  into  the  feelings  and  expressions  of 
another.  Every  teacher  ought  to  be  an  interpreter. 
And  I  think  we  should  all  of  us  strive  to  put  ourselves 
in  touch  with  the  world's  best  writers  and  not  give  them 
up  at  once  with  the  excuse  that  we  belong  to  different 
realms  of  thought.  We  are  all  made  in  God's  image 
and  that  Divine  kinship  should  remind  us  that  in  trying 
to  understand  others  we  are  aided  in  understanding 
ourselves, 

"To  walk  humbly  with  God."  Perhaps  if  we  first 
look  at  humility  in  all  its  bearings  we  may  be  better 
prepared  to  comprehend  this  special  application.  Uriah 
Heep  cringing  before  everybody  and  reminding  them 


that  he  was  so  "very  'umble,"fills  us  with  such  abhorence. 
that  in  the  reaction  we  almost  welcome  an  aggressive 
man.  Wicked  people  always  bring  good  words  into 
discredit,  and  after  Guiteau  took  shelter  behind  the 
word — inspiration, when  he  brutally  shot  President  Gar- 
field,  it  was  a  long  time  before  we  felt  like  taking  the 
word  up  again.  I  know  that  even  some  so-called 
atheists  were  really  deists,  who  disclaimed  the  term — God. 
because  they  thought  it  had  been  abused  by  the  ignorant 
and  by  the  hypocritical. 

But  even  if  Dickens'  famous  character  had  been  sin- 
cere in  his  subserviency,  he  would  have  been  almost  as 
disgusting.  Nothing  is  more  revolting  to  manly  men 
and  womanly  women  than  servility  or  self-abasement. 
We  ought  never  to  preach  the  doctrine  of  turning  the 
cheek  to  the  smiter.  I  do  not  say  this  because  this  text 
occurs  in  the  New  Testament,  for  it  is  really  an  echo  of 
rabbinic  teaching  like  so  much  that  that  book  contains. 
The  submission  of  the  Mohammedans,  which  is  an  out- 
growth of  their  fatalism/,  is  an  unfortunate  trait. 
Humility  is  not  self-depreciation,  although  the  Greeks 
always  used  it  in  that  sense;  nor  is  it  difidence.  nor  is  it 
lack  of  confidence  in  one's  own  abilities;  and  if  any  of 
you  have  these  failings,  don't  forget  that  they  are  fail- 
ings, that  you  should  discourage  them, for  they  stand  in 
the  way  of  success.  Humility  is  rather  just  estimation 
than  under-estimation  of  one's  self.  No  one  can  come 
to  a  sober  valuation  of  himself  compared  with  the  great- 
ness that  there  has  been  and  is,  and,  aware  of  his  own 
weaknesses — be  anything  but  humble.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  Newton  knew  the  full  value  of  his  discoveries,  when 
he  said  that  he  had  "picked  up  but  a  few  pebbles  on  the 
coast  while  the  vast  ocean  of  knowledge  was  still  unex- 
plored " — none  better.  But  his  standard  was  high. 
Intellectual  humility  is  therefore  a  common  experience 


among  scholars.  The  higher  we  rise  among  the  realms 
of  the  learned,  the  less  assertive  do  we  find  them,  they 
claim  little.  They  are  less  sure  with  their  many  resources 
than  we  are  with  our  few.  They  have  unknowingly 
followed  the  injunction  of  the  rabbis  and  taught  their 
tongue  to  say  ''  I  don't  know." 

Of  course,  we  must  carefully  distinguish  between  the 
external  manner  of  humility  and  the  actual  feeling. 
Society  offers  us  certain  conventional  phrases  of  self- 
disparagement  that  mean  nothing  and  deceive  nobody. 
Self-praise  is  considered  bad  form,  and  hence  on  grounds 
of  social  etiquette  alone,  people  refrain  from  spoken 
approval  of  their  own  doings.  Yet  in  their  secret  heart 
they  may  hold  an  exaggerated  opinion  of  themselves. 
When  one  says  "I  have  done  my  best  in  my  humble 
way,"  he  does  not  wish  to  be  interpreted  too  literally. 
Nothing  would  disappoint  some  persons  more  than  to 
take  them  at  their  own  stated  valuation. 

Not  that  self-depreciation  even  in  words  is  popular 
to-day,  nor  have  we  a  right  to  ascribe  the  change  to 
greater  sincerity.  We  seem  to  be  living  in  an  age  that 
has  lost  its  modesty,  and  no  longer  hesitates  as  did,  I 
think  the  last  generation  before  declaring  its  own  import- 
ance. People  unblushingly  reminds  us  of  what  they 
have  done;  they  write  their  achievements  in  large 
capitals.  They  do  not  hide  their  light  under  a  bushel, 
but  advertise  themselves  as  though  they  were  soap. 
Said  John  Howard,  the  man  who  did  more  for  the  con- 
vict than  any  other  human  being:  "Let  there  be  no  pomp 
at  my  funeral;  put  a  sun-dial  on  my  grave  and  let  me  be 
forgotten."  Such  is  not  the  spirit  of  the  present  age. 

The  quiet  unostentatious  worker,  the  man  of  solid  but 
not  of  florid  attainments,  that  rare  few  who  work  for 
good  and  not  for  glory,  those  old-fashioned  people  who 
are  of  sterling  worth,  but  neglect  to  tell  us  so — they  are 


left  far  behind.  We  are  all  to  blame.  We  encourage 
people  to  recite  their  merits  and  praise  them  for  it.  We 
do  not  lovingly  seek  out  the  good, who  humbly  withdraw 
from  the  public  gaze,  but  leave  them  to  pass  away  in 
obscurity.  Perhaps  when  they  are  dead,  their  steadfast 
fidelity  and  splendid  attainments  dawn  upon  us  as  they 
begin  to  be  missed,  and  a  little  compunction  strikes  us 
as  we  pay  our  tribute  all  too  late.  But  the  thought  of 
them  is  soon  drowned  in  the  noisy  self-assertion  of  the 
upstart  sensationalist,  who  sends  heralds  ahead  to 
announce  his  coming,  like  a  circus  show,  and  who  per- 
sonally superintends  the  manufacture  of  his  own  halo. 
What  matters  it  if  "all  that  glitters  is  not  gold,"  if  it 
only  pass  for  gold. 

It  is  ^Esop  who  tells  us  that  a  fly  sitting  upon  the 
axle  of  a  chariot  wheel  said  :  "  See  what  a  dust  I  raise." 
How  many  conceitedly  point  to  themselves  as  the  cause 
of  certain  fortunate  conditions,  that  propitious  circum- 
stance may  have  brought  about.  For  causes  and  results 
are  slippery  things  and  we  can  never  be  sure  in  connect- 
ing them.  How  few  have  the  heroic  discipline,  humbly 
to  declare  even  to  themselves  that  they  are  not  indispen- 
sible,  that  the  same  results  would  have  been  accomplished 
by  others,  that  they  owe  as  much  to  chance  as  to  merit, 
that  they  are  not  more  industrious,  more  self-denying 
more  faithful  than  millions  who  stand  immeasurably 
below  them  in  the  world's  esteem.  And  yet  how  true  it 
is  !  Who  are  the  great,  who  are  the  small  ?  You  talk  of 
your  inferiors — what  do  you  mean  ?  The  man  whose 
grandfather  didn't  make  a  fortune  by  an  unforeseen  rise 
in  real  estate;  the  man  who  lacks  your  faculty  of  speech, 
but  who  has  a  heart  of  gold  and  is  one  of  nature's 
noblemen  ?  Before  we  dare  say  that  one  is  the  superior 
of  the  other,  we  must  measure  them  in  all  their  dimen- 
sions, not  in  one.  A  man  may  be  a  giant  intellectually 


"f 


and  a  pigmy  morally,  like  Bacon,  "wisest  and  meanest 
of  mankind."  Don't  boast  of  your  possessions  or  your 
external  dignity,  but  humbly  thank  God  that  all  has 
gone  so  well  with  you — better  perhaps  than  you  deserved. 
A  Roman  triumvir  in  the  meridian  of  his  glory  had  a 
servant  standing  behind  his  chair,  who  from  time  to 
time  declared  "Memento  te  esse  hominem."  In  the 
intoxication  of  glory  at  some  grand  success,  \ve  are 
tempted  to  forget  it.  Unlike  the  Sicilian  prince  who 
ate  from  an  earthenware  plate, to  remind  himself  that  he 
was  once  a  potter,  we  put  the  humble  past  for  ever  out 
of  sight. 

"Walk  humbly  with  God."  I  have  dwelt  more  on 
intellectual  humility  than  on  moral  humility,  though  it 
is  always  moral  fundamentally.  Still,  we  have  not  yet 
looked  at  it  from  its  religious  aspect.  The  rabbins  say 
that  a  proud  man  is  an  idolator,  and  we  perhaps  echo  a 
something  of  that  thought  to-day,  when  we  define  reli- 
gion as  our  humble  recognition  of  our  own  weakness, 
and  our  acknowledgment  of  a  Higher  Power,  who  is  in 
fullest  perfection  what  we  are  in  such  a  very  small 
degree.  So  piety  and  humility  are  often  associated. 
With  thoughts  directed  toward  God,  the  comparison  of 
man  with  his  Maker  must  crush  at  once  all  pretension 
as  absurd.  We  disclaim  our  vain  superiority  as  petty 
in  the  presence  of  Him  who  is  so  far  above  us  all,  and 
before  whose  Infinite  greatness  our  finite  differences  of 
high  and  low  are  altogether  lost.  "Oh,  Lord,"  said 
Abraham,  ''can  I  presume  to  speak  to  Thee;  I  am  but 
dust  and  ashes?"  Even  in  the  presence  of  scholars  we 
feel  our  littleness,  and  shrink  abashed  to  the  back- 
ground, glad  of  the  privilege  of  listening  silently  to 
their  wisdom.  Just  a  little  before,  perhaps,  we  were 
moving  among  a  throng  who  knew  less  than  we.  How 
big  we  thought  we  were,  and  how  we  lorded  it  over 


8 


them  !  Look  up  to  the  stars,  and  their  immeasurable 
distance  will  give  a  faint  suggestion  of  the  magnitude 
of  space,  and  what  a  tiny  speck  are  you  and  your 
estates,  and  what  a  drop  in  the  ocean  of  time  is  your 
short  life  !  Does  not  that  make  you  feel  humble — not 
discouragingly  humble,  but  reverently  humble?  "Oh 
Lord,  when  I  consider  the  heavens  the  work  of  Thy 
hands,  what  is  man  that  Thou  shouldst  think  of  him?" 

Should  we,  then,  feel  shamed  to  the  very  dust  ?  By 
no  means.  Religion,  having  first  taught  man  to  realize 
humbly  his  own  deficiencies,  whispers  to  him  of  the 
possibilities  within  him.  Religion  inspires  true  dignity. 
Therefore,  that  very  Psalm  1  have  just  quoted  having 
begun,  "What  is  man,"  continues:  "Yet  Thou  hast 
made  him  but  little  lower  than  God,  and  crownst  him 
with  gloiy  and  honor."  I  like  to  see  that  union  of 
humility  and  sturdiness,  humble  in  its  quiet  unpreten- 
tiousness,  yet  invincible  as  a  rock  in  rigid  adherence  to 
moral  right ;  gentle  and  yet  firm,  unflinchingly  bearing 
whatever  slings  and  arrows  fidelity  to  conviction  may 
entail,  yet  making  no  fuss,  calling  no  audience  to  wit- 
ness his  honesty,  sending  no  account  of  his  achievements 
to  the  morning  papers,  but  still  comforted  and  upheld 
with  the  sweet  assurance  that  He  who  seeth  the  evil  and 
the  good  will  not  forget  His  servants. 

I  am  getting  very  near  to  my  text  now — "Walking 
humbly  with  God."  How  can  we  walk  with  God? 
This  phrase  is  a  familiar  figure  of  speech  in  the  Bible. 
"The  path  of  right,"  "the  Lord  knoweth  the  way  of  the 
righteous,"  "walk  not  in  wicked  counsel."  Again,  God 
is  represented  as  saying  to  Abraham:  "Walk  before 
Me,  and  be  thou  perfect.  "  In  that  long  genealogical 
table  from  Adam  to  Noah,  of  men  who  lived  fabulous 
ages,  we  are  told  a  single  fact  of  just  one  of 
them— Enoch— that  "he  walked  with  God."  Be- 


cause  of  that  solitary  epitaph,  fancy  has  woven 
many  a  pretty  legend  around  his  name.  What, 
then,  is  the  meaning  hidden  in  this  metaphor, 
"  walking  with  God  ?"  The  prophet  Amos  asks  :  "  Shall 
two  walk  together  unless  they  be  agreed  ?"  God  is  our 
everlasting  standard  of  changeless  perfection.  God 
cannot  go  our  way,  but  we  can  go  God's  way  ;  we  can 
direct  our  life  in  line  with  His  spirit.  God  must  be  our 
ideal,  and  we  must  define  an  imaginary  line  between 
ourselves  and  our  ideal,  and  let  no  diverting  temptation 
draw  us  from  that  narrow  path  of  right  that  leads  from 
man  to  his  Maker. 

We  must  learn  to  walk  with  God,  and  not  go  against 
Him.  We  must  be  very  cautious  that,  in  following 
God,  we  are  not  following  some  will-o'-the-wisp  that 
may  land  us  in  the  mire,  or  some  mirage  that  may  mock 
us  with  its  illusive  beauty,  only  to  vanish  into  shadowy 
nothing  as  we  approach  it,  leaving  us  deceived  and 
abandoned.  In  other  words,  we  must  not  too  easily 
satisfy  ourselves  that  we  are  religious  or  that  we  are 
dutiful.  We  may  start  out  to  walk  with  God,  and  then 
become  so  absorbed  in  ourselves  that  we  imperceptibly 
drift  away,  and  find  that  we  have  lost  Him.  Often  in  a 
strange  country,  when  we  think  we  are  walking  parallel 
to  an  unseen  path  and  will  come  out  to  a  familiar  point, 
we  may  be  slightly  veering  in  a  different  course,  so  that 
each  step  takes  us  further  away  from  our  destination. 
The  bad  way  looks  so  much  like  the  good  way  at  certain 
places,  that  only  by  close  scrutiny  can  we  tell  the  differ- 
ence. I  have  seen  selfishness  mistaken  for  piety  ;  cruel 
spite  for  religious  zeal  ;  idolatry  for  godliness.  It  is 
not  easy  to  walk  with  God  to  keep  step  with  the  Un- 
seen. A  keenly  sensitive  conscience,  a  vigilant  moral 
sense,  can  alone  assure  us  of  our  Divine  companionship . 

But  we  must  walk  humbly  with  God.     I  have  just  said 


10 


we  cannot  see  Him,  nor  can  we  always  understand  His 
ways.  They  often  seem  to  us  hard  and  bitter.  It  is  not 
easy  to  submit  humbly  to  the  chastening  of  the  Lord, 
and  to  feel  assured  that  whom  He  loveth  He  chasteneth. 
How  many  in  the  presence  of  calamity  can  humbly  bow 
their  heads,  and  while  the  tears  are  flowing  fast,  say, 
"The  Lord  knoweth  best.  We  have  no  right  to  question 
the  wisdom  or  the  justice  of  His  decrees,"  and,  like 
Aaron,  stand  in  the  silence  of  submission  ?  Oh,  that  we 
could  all  learn  to  acquire  the  humility  that  is  patience, 
the  humility  that  is  resignation,  the  humility  that  is 
faith  !  They  are  all  subtle  forms  of  strength  and  help 
us  to  bear  the  burdens  of  life. 

Let  us  not  rebel  against  the  vicissitudes  of  our  lot 
whatever  they  may  be,  but  school  our  spirit  to  serve 
God  even  in  the  darkness — walking  His  way,  even 
though  it  be  a  hard  way,  humbly  and  silently  trusting 
His  leadership,  pausing  not  even  in  the  perilous  passes, 
knowing  that  "His  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 
all  His  paths  are  peace." 

"Hush!"  said  Moses;  "and  see  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord."  How  dare  we  murmur  at  decrees  of  which  we 
see  but  fragments,  the  beginning  and  the  end  being  lost 
in  mystery?  We  do  not  even  know  enough  to  call  them 
decrees.  We  get  occasional  glimpses  of  vastness  in 
momentary  flashes  of  light.  Let  our  ignorance  teach  us 
humility,  even  while  our  knowledge  teaches  us  belief. 
Let  us  be  the  children  of  God,  and,  like  children,  un- 
questionably trust  Him,  feeling  that  His  love  will  protect 
us  from  all  danger.  Let  us  walk  humbly  with  God. 
Oh,  for  the  sweet  confidence  that  can  say  :  "  Yea,  though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will 
fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me  !"  Amen. 


THE  OLDNESS  OF  THE  NEW. 


The  Oldness  of  tke  New. 


Among  the  different  cries  to  which  this  age  is  giving 
voice,  one  that  seems  to  be  raised  above  the  others,  is 
the  cry  for  the  new  in  all  things.  Its  refrain  is — "  We 
have  had  enough  of  the  old,  of  the  past.  It  is  time  we 
swept  away  these  cobwebs  of  tradition,  we  have  had 
enough  of  ancient  precedent  and  authority  of  the  ages* 
Let  us  shake  off  the  shackles  of  antiquity,  of  old  beliefs 
that  we  do  not  accept  of  old  theories,  that  we  do  not 
share,  of  old  religions  that  have  outlived  their  truth — 
cast  them  into  the  waste-basket  of  things  worn  out  and 
rejected;  and  then  let  us  have  a  brand  new  religion  on 
brand  new  principles,  a  new  departure  that  will  voice  the 
needs  of  the  present  hour. 

But  is  the  new  so  very  new  ?  There  is  a  stubborn  bit 
of  philosophy  in  the  Bible  that  we  cannot  somehow  get 
rid  of,  reminding  us  that  "there  is  nothing  new  under  the 
sun!"  That  which  we  call  new  is  nothing  more  than  a 
fresh  coat  of  paint,  or  a  changed  dress,  or,  at  most,  a 
different  arrangement  of  the  old  materials.  The  histo- 
rian points  to  one  isolated  instance  of  a  period  known 
as  Renaissance  when  all  the  so-called  new  inventions  of 
the  sixteenth  century  were  nothing  more  than  revivals 
of  inventions  made  and  forgotten  two  thousand  years 
before.  But  I  believe  that  all  history  is  renaissance, 
and  not  merely  one  of  its  chapters.  It  is  all  repetition* 
revival,  rehibilitation,  not  only  in  its  inventions  and 
arts,  but  in  its 'social  movements,  its  ideas,  its  epics,  its 
enterprise.  The  "world"  seems  to  move  in  a  circle  as 
well  as  the  earth.  We  are  but  turning  our  ancestors' 
garments,  in  a  manner,  it  is  true,  ''warranted  to  look 


like  new,"  and  only  when   we   rip    them    open,  do    they 
show  the  well-worn  merits  of  earlier  generations. 

What  is  there  so  new  in  our  religious  reforms — is  it 
the  giving  up  of  the  literal  interpretation  of  the  Bible 
and  explaining  its  stories  and  miracles  figuratively  ? 
Philo  did  that  in  Alexandria  before  the  second  Temple 
had  fallen.  Is  it  praying  in  the  vernacular  ?  They 
prayed  in  nothing  else  twenty-five  centuries  ago.  Hebrew 
was  the  vernacular.  It  is  only  we  who  pray  in  a  strange 
language.  And  even  when  their  tongue  became  Chaldaic, 
they  made  Chaldaic  the  language  of  prayer,  showing 
that  they  were  perhaps  more  adaptable  than  we  are. 
Does  the  new  truth  consist  in  the  lessening  importance 
of  ceremonial  and  the  growing  importance  ot  spiritual  ? 
That  was  an  old  story  to  the  prophets,  who  flourished 
before  the  foundations  of  Rome  were  laid.  I  might 
almost  say  they  taught  nothing  else.  "Not  animal 
sacrifice,"  says  Micah,  ''but  justice,  mercy  and  humility." 
"  Never  mind  about  new  moons  and  Festivals,  let  us 
have  charity,  purity,  righteousness,"  said  Isaiah.  "  God 
does  not  want  burnt-offerings,  but  obedience,"  says 
Jeremiah.  "I  have  my  opinion  of  those  so  conscientious 
as  to  exact  times  of  holy  observance,  but  who  give  bad 
weight  to  the  poor,"  says  Amos.  What  then  is  the  much 
vaunted  new  religious  idea  ?  Even  scepticism  is  as  old 
as  faith,  our  doubts  are  as  venerable  as  our  beliefs.  We 
can  be  just  as  old-fashioned  when  we  deny  as  when  we 
accept.  If  we  have  anything  new  to  teach,  it  is  rather 
in  detail,  form  or  minor  accessory. 

And  even  granted,  as  of  course  we  do  grant,  that  new 
thought  that  is  also  vital  thought  has  just  been  given 
life — is  this  only  true  of  our  age  ?  Has  the  world  stood 
still  till  the  ipth  century,  and  then  for  the  first  time 
decided  to  move  ?  Has  not  each  century  bequeathed  to 
posterity  a  fresh  experience,  a  glorious  discovery  ?  Is 


'*? 

5 

not  human  experience  always  being  enriched  and 
corrected  ?  In  our  days  yes,  but  in  the  days  of  Charle- 
magne, too,  aye,  and  of  Bacon  and  Maimonides  and 
Newton.  Has  not  almost  every  generation  reached  a 
condition  of  advancement,  beyond  which  it  seemed 
impossible  to  go?  Has  not  the  world  always  been  on 
the  eve  of  a  crisis,  and  jogged  on  nevertheless  ?  When 
the  year  1000  approached,  people  believed  that  the  world 
was  bound  to  come  to  an  end,  and  I  think  that  every 
generation  believes  that  something  is  going  to  happen 
in  its  age  that  has  never  happened  before. 

As  an  instance  of  the  oldness  of  the  new,  I  have  often 
thought  that  when  the  prophets  first  preached  the  abro- 
gation of  sacrifices,  timid  people  began  to  say — ''what  ! 
give  up  animal  sacrifices  ! — it  is  one  of  the  pillars  of 
Judaism,  even  Moses  did  not  dare  do  that  !  You  will 
begin  by  abolishing  sacrifices,  then  you  will  abolish 
priests,  and  so  abolishing  bit  by  bit,  very  soon  there  will 
be  nothing  left."  Don't  suppose,  therefore,  that  you 
were  the  first  to  speak  in  that  way;  even  that  argument, 
if  it  is  an  argument,  is  a  very  old  argument. 

Surely  the  liberty  and  rights  enjoyed  in  this  country 
are  modern,  it  may  be  asked  ?  Yes,  but  let  the  American 
Republic  forget  not  the  debt  it  owes  to  the  Constitu- 
tional Monarchy  of  England  that  preceded  it.  Without 
that  preparatory  condition  their  free  speech  and  universal 
suffrage  would  not  be  possible.  The  freedom  that  you 
enjoy  is  not  of  to-day's  birth,  nor  of  yesterday's;  you  owe 
some  of  it  to  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  that  was  passed  in 
the  year  1679,  some  of  it  to  the  Magna  Charta  that  was 
signed  as  early  as  the  year  1215.  Each  age  has  given 
something  toward  your  enfranchisement;  it  is  not  all  of 
your  own  making. 

It  is  seldom  we  can  point  to  one  man  as  the  inventor 
of  a  complete  machine.  He  perhaps  adds  a  wheel  or 


improves  a  balance,  simplifies  or  enlarges  a  previous 
contrivance.  Did  Watt  invent  the  steam  engine  ?  There 
was  some  species  of  steam  engine  in  Greece,  130  years 
before  the  common  era;  a  Spaniard,  a  German  and  an 
Italian,  each  did  something  toward  its  improvement 
around  the  i6th  century,  only  to  be  followed  by  two  or 
three  Englishmen  who  pushed  the  invention  still  further 
on;  then  a  Frenchman  added  the  piston,  only  then  came 
the  famous  Watt,  who  devised  a  separate  vessel  to  con- 
dense the  steam.  And  so  Columbus  has  to  share  the 
discovery  of  America  with  half  a  dozen  others.  Now 
that  John  Tyndall  has  died,  it  is  hard  to  find  out  just 
what  he  did.  He  did  parts  of  so  many  things.  He 
supplied  links  to  ever  so  many  inventions.  Our  improve- 
ments in  social  life  belong  to  no  one  age,  but  to  all  ages; 
like  the  sciences  they  represent,  a  perpetual,  never  end- 
ing, always  advancing  growth. 

The  new  things  and  theories  of  to-day  are  then  simply 
the  latest  phase  of  all  that  has  been.  The  new  religious 
thought  is  but  the  last  development  from  the  old,  is 
evolved  from  the  past  and  belongs  to  it,  just  as  the  child 
is  of  the  parent,  bone  of  its  bone,  flesh  of  its  flesh  and 
soul  of  its  soul.  Shall  we  then,  having  reached  the  new, 
cast  off  the  old,  cut  adrift  from  the  past,  which  is  the 
father  of  the  present,  and  like  the  new  Pharoah,  shall 
we  "  know  not  Joseph  ?"  Shall  we  give  up  our  grand 
old  religion,  upon  which  is  registered  the  growing 
thought  and  deepening  fervor  of  every  epoch,  and 
organize  a  new  religion,  based  only  on  the  very  latest 
and  very  newest  of  our  convictions  ? 

We  rejoice  in  the  glory  of  the  flowers.  They  come  to 
us  with  such  precise  regularity,  marking  off  the  months, 
that  it  seems  as  though  they  must  have  always  been. 
Qf  course,  you  know  that  such  is  not  the  case.  Flowers 
are  one  of  the  later  developments  of  nature.  There  was 


a.  time  when  there  were  no  flowers  at  all,  long  before 
man  made  his  appearance  on  the  earth,  nor  were  there 
any  bees  to  gather  honey  from  the  flowers  that  had  not 
come,  nor  were  there  any  songbirds.  A  luxuriant 
growth  of  enormous  ferns  marked  the  preceding  stage- 
Nature  was  not  as  beautiful  then  as  now.  But  in  her 
gradual  development  she  has  perpetually  attained  a 
richer  glory.  Now  does  nature  discard  all  her  earlier 
creations,  produce  flowers  and  cease  producing  trees  and 
ferns,  and  moss?  It  would  be  very  unfortunate  if  she 
did.  The  flowers  would  lose  their  charm  without  the 
beautiful  green  background.  They  are  most  beautiful, 
only  when  taken  together  with  all  the  previous  develop, 
ments.  Nature  has  retained  for  us  all  the  different 
gradations  of  her  growth,  except  a  few  extinct  flora 
and  fauna.  Even  her  dead  leaves  enrich  the  soil,  con- 
tributing towards  the  living  buds  ar.d  preaching  yet 
again  the  immortality  of  all  things  good.  Shall  we  only 
accept  the  last  blossoms  of  religion  and  cut  assunder  the 
tree  and  roots  from  which  they  have  sprung  ?  The  new 
comes  from  the  old  and  depends  upon  it  for  sustenance 
and  life. 

Nature  is  one — even  as  God  is  One,  as  man  is  one — 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  orthodox  nature  and  reform 
nature.  She  is  one  glorious  whole.  She  has  never 
renounced  hei  past  or  severed  herself  from  it,  for  she  is 
incomplete  without  it.  The  evolutionist  sees  a  latent 
reptile  in  the  flying  birds,  sees  a  walrus  in  a  horse  and 
even  an  anthropoid  ape  in  a  man.  But  her  first  stage  is 
as  true  and  as  necessary  as  her  last.  If  we  climb  to  the 
top  of  the  mountain  and  then  have  the  mountain  removed 
from  under  us,  we  will  simply  sink  to  the  ground  again. 
Your  very  height  depends  not  merely  on  the  topmost 
plateau,  but  also  upon  the  .'ower  ridges,  for  they  uphold 
the  plateau.  We  have  never  so  advanced  in  literature 
that  we  can  discard  the  alphabet. 


8 


If  we  cut  off  the  past,  we  have  no  standard  of  morality 
or  right;  we  cannot  measure  our  progress.  We  cannot 
separate  the  ripened  apple  from  the  apple  in  its  unripe 
state;  they  are  one;  the  unripeness  has  developed  into 
ripeness;  it  is  all  there,  concentrated  in  the  one  apple. 

I  think  I  have  answered  the  question — shall  we  give 
up  our  old  religion,  simply  because  of  some  new  theories 
that  we  find  ourselves  conceiving.  Keep  your  new  con- 
victions by  all  means,  they  are  blossoms  on  the  old  tree. 
And  if  you  do  not  think  they  have  developed  directly 
from  your  religion,  then  graft  them  on  it,  and  enrich  it 
with  the  new  experience,  so  that  it  may  grow  from 
without  as  well  as  from  within,  as  we  all  do.  Indeed 
belief  in  our  constant  mental  and  moral  growth,  in  our 
nearer  approach  to  God  and  truth  is  in  itself  a 
cardinal  doctrine  of  Judaism — the  Messianic  doctrine. 

I  have  been  led  to  dwell  on  this  feature  of  our  faith, 
because  it  has  become  fashionable  for  some  having 
caught  hold  of  a  new  truth,  which  is  really  an  old  truth, 
to  discard  their  ancestral  faith  altogether,  though  it 
really  contains  the  so-called  new  principle.  They  are 
tired  of  affiliation  with  people  who  are  tabooed  in  clubs 
and  ostracised  generally.  They  are  anxious  to  affiliate 
with  a  choice  few,  leaving  their  poor  relations,  so  to 
speak,  to  get  along  as  best  they  can.  Is  this  noble,  is  it 
heroic,  is  it  religious  ?  Nothing  is  so  easy  as  to  abandon 
a  faith,  and  let  me  add,  nothing  is  so  cowardly.  To 
reconstruct  a  faith,  to  adapt  it  to  the  age,  and  the  human 
need,  would  show  bravery  as  well  as  genius.  There  may 
be  a  great  temptation  to  throw  off  observances  that  tax 
one's  time  and  call  for  some  sacrifice,  and  with  them  to 
throw  off  also  people  who  may  not  always  be  congenial. 
Do  these  things  if  you  wish,  but  for  God's  sake,  do  not 
call  such  action  religious,  seeing  that  it  is  selfish,  and 
snobbish,  and  worldly. 


Moses  was  religiously,  far  in  advance  of  his  people, 
yet  he  stayed  in  the  desert  with  them  in  a  metaphorical 
as  well  as  in  an  actual  sense.  He  permitted  even  the 
retention  of  sacrifices  and  slavery,  so  that  by  that  per- 
mission he  could  induce  them  to  accept  a  spiritual  God 
and  the  Ten  Commandments.  Better  that  the  one  great 
soul  should  progress  slowly,  so  that  one  thousand  souls 
should  progress  with  him,  than  that  he  should  go  for- 
ward untrammeled  and  leave  them  in  the  mire.  Mendels- 
sohn, through  his  philosophical  writings,  that  won  him 
the  friendship  of  Lessing,  and  his  later  literary  fame, 
was  courted  in  the  circles  of  culture  and  fashion,  was 
flattered  and  caressed  and  given  entree  into  the  salons  of 
savants  and  litterati.  They  wished  him  to  stay  with 
them  and  to  become  one  of  them.  Lavater  pleaded, 
begging  him  to  become  a  Christian.  But  there  were  his 
people  in  the  Ghetto,  most  of  them  ignorant  and  uncouth. 
Shall  he  cut  adrift  from  them,  and  the  humiliating 
restrictions  that  was  their  inheritance  from  the  Gentiles? 
No!  He  must  stay  with  them — their  fate  must  be  his — 
and  if  he  has  learning  and  prestige,  then  he  must  use  it 
in  their  cause.  The  path  of  duty  was  clear — Mendelssohn 
emancipated  a  nation,  winning  them  to  better  things  by 
gradual  steps — making  small  concessions  to  custom  and 
even  to  prejudice  that  he  might  obtain  great  concessions 
to  spirituality,  sweetness  and  light. 

I  believe  that  all  the  world's  progress  has  come  about 
simply  by  the  wise  and  noble  few  going  back  to  save 
the  ignorant  many.  Your  brother  is  perishing  in  the 
snow;  you  are  strong  and  hardy  and  will  soon  reach 
yonder  cottage  of  warmth  and  shelter,  but  will  you  leave 
him  there  to  die  by  the  wayside?  Are  you  your  brother's 
keeper? 

Let  us  stand  by  each  other  and  not  even  leave  the 
Russian  Jew  behind,  however  debased  he  may  be  by 


persistent,  crushing  brutality.  Let  us  renew  the  old 
covenant  of  Sinai;  indeed  we  know  none  grander.  And 
if  the  Commandments  mean  more  to  us  than  they  mean 
to  the  desert  wanderers,  if  we  have  read  into  them  our 
higher  ideals,  so  much  the  better.  If  living  truths  can 
grow  even  as  living  flowers  and  living  men,  then  has  the 
Decalogue  grown  with  our  growth  and  strengthened 
with  our  strength.  If  the  religious  principle,  like 
material  principle,  has  yielded  interest  year  by  year, 
adding  the  interest  to  the  original  Mosaic  capital,  then 
the  vast  inheritance  that  has  broadened  and  risen  with 
time  descends  to  us — the  lineal  descendants,  the  rightful 
heirs  to  the  precious  inheritance  of  Judaism.  Let  us 
not  fear  to  disseminate  its  truths,  for  unlike  material 
principal,  it  increases  by  its  very  expenditure,  and  the 
more  freely  it  is  scattered,  the  vaster  grows  the  limit  of 
its  supply.  It  is  ours  to  keep  and  to  bestow,  and  to 
keep  by  bestowing. 


HOW  SHOULD  WE  MOURN  THE 
DEPARTED  ? 


How  shall  we  Mourn  the 
Departed? 


Death  is  always  with  us  and  always  will  be.  In  spite 
of  elixirs  of  life  and  the  triumph  of  medical  science, 
man  has  never  yet  learned  how  to  evade  the  grim 
messenger.  We  here  to-night  are  therefore  as  sure  of 
our  ultimate  death  as  of  our  present  life — for  although 
by  right-living,  care  and  self-control  we  may  put  off 
the  evil  day — that  day  will  sooner  or  later  mature. 
Therefore  our  daily  experience  has  always  a  something 
to  do  with  the  departed.  Either  we  are  wearing  the 
garments  of  grief,  or  saying  the  annual  mourners'  prayer, 
or  waiting  in  sad  expectancy  for  yet  another  dear  one 
to  be  called  away.  A  consideration  then  of  our  duties 
to  the  memory  of  the  lost  is  surely  a  timely  theme. 

The  first  question  has  always  been  what:  shall  we  do 
with  the  lifeless  tenement  ?  The  earliest  and  rudest 
mode  of  disposal  of  the  dead  have  been  exposure  in 
the  wilds,  where  they  would  either  decay  or  be  consumed. 
Burning  was  general  once,  and  for  scientific  reasons, 
cremation  is  likely  to  become  popular  again.  There 
is  nothing  against  it  in  Jewish  Law.  But  the  most 
usual  method,  both  of  the  primitive  and  the  cultured 
has  been  burial — from  the  rude  pile  of  stones  heaped  by 
the  Mohammedans  above  the  corpse,  encased  only  in  a 
shroud,  to  the  pyramid  that  covered  the  embalmed  and 
elaborately  bandaged  mummy  of  the  Egyptians,  or  the 
granite  mausoleum  in  which  a  costly  casket  is  deposited, 
familiar  to  your  own  experience. 

Peculiar  customs  have  always  been  associated  with 
burial  that  vary  with  difference  of  belief.  Most  of 


the  ancients  believed  not  only  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  but  also  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  that 
the  life  continued  in  another  world  in  much  the  same 
way.  The  North-American  Indian  only  went  from 
their  hunting  fields  here  to  the  "  Happy  hunting 
grounds  "  beyond,  and  were  therefore  buried  with  bow 
and  arrow  and  moccasins,  that  they  might  continue  their 
mysterious  journey.  Even  a  kettle  of  provisions  was 
placed  by  his  side  to  meet  all  possible  emergency.  With 
the  same  idea  in  view  the  Mexicans  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  deceased,  slips  of  paper,  passports,  so  to  speak^ 
against  future  dangers.  The  Norse  hero  was  buried 
with  his  horse  and  armor  tkat  he  might  ride  to  Valhalla 
fully  equipped,  and  for  a  like  purpose  the  Chinese  are 
buried  with  paper  images  of  sedan-chairs.  So  far  in 
these  instances  peculiar  beliefs  were  followed  by  harm- 
less usages.  But  this,  alas,  was  not  always  the 
case.  Superstitions  about  futurity,  sometimes  led  to 
cruel  customs.  The  natives  of  Dahomey  kill  a  slave 
from  time  to  time,  that  he  may  thus  tell  the  latest  news 
to  the  departed  master.  The  Indian  widow  is  burnt  to 
death  in  the  delusion  that  she  will  thus  accompany  her 
husband;  while  the  Fijians  strangled  wives,  friends  and 
slaves  to  give  to  the  departed  company  in  his  life  after 
death. 

The  Semitic  races,  I  am  glad  to  say,  are  conspicuous 
for  the  absence  of  any  such  wanton  sacrifice  of  life,  in 
connection  with  burial,  except  that  the  camel  of  the 
Arab  dies  on  the  grave  of  his  master.  Other  funeral 
customs  worth  mentioning  are  the  burial  of  Mexican 
children  by  the  wayside,  that  their  souls  may  enter  into 
the  passers-by;  again,  the  Greeks  placed  a  coin  called 
an  obolus  in  the  hands  of  the  deceased  to  pay  his  fare 
to  the  weird  boatmen  Charon,  who  rowed  him  over  the 
Styx,  the  river  of  death,  and  a  honey-cake  to  soothe 


Cerberus,the  dog  that  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  Shades. 
While  the  Egyptians,  Siamese  and  Greenlanders  resort 
to  various  methods  to  prevent  the  return  of  the  soul,  of 
which  they  are  very  much  afraid.  This  fear  eventually 
led  to  the  worship  of  Manes,  i.e. ancestors.  The  singing  at 
Irish  wakes  to  ward  off  evil  spirits,  shows  how  old 
customs  persist. 

Mourning  rites  are  equally  curious  and  diverse. 
The  Hawaiians  on  the  death  of  a  king  feign  madness 
and  commit  desperate  crimes,  even  murder,  to  indicate 
that  grief  has  driven  them  frantic.  The  Romans  ended 
the  mourning  with  feasting  and  gladiatorial  combats. 
The  Mohammedans  hired  women  to  wail  and  cry,  while 
such  exaggerated  forms  of  grief  as  fasting,  covering  the 
body  with  rags  and  sackloth,  sitting  in  ashes,  wringing 
the  hands,  beating  breasts,  tearing  the  hair,  shaving  the 
head,  gashing  the  body  are  common  among  most  peoples 
of  antiquity.  They  are  nearly  all  violent  forms  of  natural 
emotions. 

While  natural  they  are  perhaps  outside  the  range  of 
criticism.  They  begin  to  be  objectionable  only  when 
they  become  artificial.  By  artificial,  I  do  not  mean 
hypocritical.  I  mean  the  prescribing  a  form  of  grief  by 
law,  sayingjfor  instance, that  at  the  loss  of  a  relative  one 
must  abstain  from  food,  sit  in  ashes,  or  tear  the  hair. 
When  these  are  natural  emotions,  they  are  unconscious; 
when  they  are  commanded,  they  cease  to  indicate 
grief  but  simply  obedience  to  rule.  If  we  were  told  to 
weep  tears  at  prescribed  times,  the  tears  would  no  longer 
be  the  natural  and  touching  signs  of  an  affectionate 
nature,  but  a  cold  compliance  with  a  mechanical 
formula. 

Here  then  lies  the  danger  of  religions  or  society 
interfering  with  the  private  grief  of  a  bereaved  soul,  and 
compelling  him  to  regulate  his  mourning  by  settled 


statutes  and  pre-arranged  legislation.  When  all  our 
mourning  is  brought  down  to  a  meaningless  uniformity, 
to  an  arbitrary  fashion,  it  is  no  longer  mourning,  its 
observance  indicates  a  respect  for  the  usages  of  social 
life,  or  perhaps  merely  a  fear  of  awakening  criticism  by 
disobeying  them. 

If  society  is  to  give  us  occasional  liberty  from  its 
exacting  regulations,  surely  this  should  be  the  time. 
Why  must  we  clothe  ourselves  in  black  ?  It  is  but  a 
symbol.  The  Chinese  dress  in  white,  the  Ethiopian 
mourning  is  brown — the  color  of  the  earth,  the  Turkish 
blue — the  color  of  the  sky,  the  Egyptian  is  yellow — the 
hue  of  decayed  leaves,  and  other  nations  a  mixture  of 
violet  and  black  to  symbolize  the  union  of  sorrow  and 
hope.  The  color  of  the  dress  then  is  only  a  form  that  varies 
with  different  nations;  and  even  then  it  is  almost  wholly 
confined  to  that  sex  with  whom  dress  is  an  important 
detail.  Why  then  should  we  be  so  severe  in  this  demand, 
compelling  wives  and  mothers  and  daughters  in  the 
supreme  throes  of  agony,  to  enter  into  worldly  parapher- 
nalia of  dressmaking  and  millinery  while  the  dead  are 
still  in  the  house.  Give  them  at  least  leisure  for  these 
sad  preparations.  And  granted  black  clothing,  why 
compel  them  to  wear  the  costly  and  unhealthy  crape? 
Why  impose  upon  our  sisters,  the  burdensome  veil,  that 
is  injurious  to  the  eyes  and  hideous  always  ? 

In  coming  to  the  details  of  funerals  and  mourning 
generally,  I  find  much  to  condemn,  much  that  should 
be  altered.  Many  old  abuses  have  passed  away  with  a 
growing  sense  of  refinement  and  fitness — but  many  new 
abuses  have  crept  in.  In  the  first  place,  the  loss  of  those 
we  love  is  a  blow  sufficiently  terrible  and  bitter;  no  need 
to  add  to  the  gloom  and  the  horrors  by  repulsive  customs, 
to  make  the  grief  more  heartrending.  Many  of  the 
usages  to  which  I  refer  are  rapidly  passing  away  and 


therefore  I  will  not  mention  them.  For,  after  all,  it  is 
not  so  much  the  gloom  with  which  we  are  apt  to  sur- 
round death  that  is  to  be  censured,  for  it  is  natural  to 
look  upon  the  great  mystery  with  trembling  and  awe. 
It  is  the  pomp  and  display  that  is  the  most  objectionable 
feature  of  the  modern  funeral.  The  extravagance  of 
the  funeral  trappings  seems  a  mockery  in  the  midst  of 
tears;  the  pride  of  wealth  in  the  costly  pageant,  how 
sinful  at  the  hour  of  death!  And  it  is  so  unjewish.  The 
code  of  our  fathers,  praised  be  their  exquisite  feeling 
in  this  regard,  demanded  at  this  hour  of  sorrow,  a  stern 
and  rigid  simplicity:  the  plainest  covering  for  the  body, 
a  sjmple  unadorned  coffin,  and  everything  else  in  keep- 
ing with  the  absence  of  decoration.  In  our  gorgeous 
tombstones  I  see  but  the  vanity  of  riches  that  cannot 
leave  us  even  in  death.  For  a  tall  conspicuous  monu- 
ment does  not  to-day  indicate  depth  of  affection,  or  pro- 
fundity of  bereavement.  It  is  merely  a  question  of 
means.  Notice  too  how  this  lavishness  of  chiseled  marble 
has  destroyed  the  significance  of  monuments  to  the 
great.  For  on  entering  a  cemetery  to-day  and  seeing  a 
splendid  tombstone,  you  no  longer  say  "some  noble  per- 
son, surely  one  of  the  world's  great  heroes" — No  !  you 
simply  infer  "what  a  rich  man."  The  finest  monument 
in  one  of  the  finest  cemeteries  in  this  state  adorns  the 
grave  of  an  enterprising  purveyor  of  soda  water  ! 

Let  me  appeal  to  the  rich  for  the  sake  of  the  poor  to 
revive  the  ancient  beautiful  simplicity.  Do  not  by  your 
example  of  extravagance  impose  upon  those  in  moderate 
circumstances  expenses  that  often  embarrass  them. 
Naturally  they  try  to  do  what  you  do,  especially  at  such 
a  time  when  curtailment  of  expense  might  seem  unfeel- 
ing, as  though  they  begrudged  to  the  dear  and  the  lost. 
And  would  you  believe  that  many  poor  Irish  people, 
slaves  of  custom,  expend  in  flowers  and  carriages,  funeral 


trappings  and  headstone,  the  hard-earned  savings  of 
years!  I  know  of  some  cases  where  for  long  afterwards 
the  living  had  to  suffer  privation  to  supply  decoration 
for  the  dead. 

We  have  undoubtedly  made  much  improvement  in 
refining  the  details,  painful  at  best,  of  this  trying  ordeal 
for  the  survivors.  The  coarse  and  crude  management 
of  boorish  assistants  and  unfeeling  officials,  is  being 
replaced  by  a  better  state  of  things.  But  some  of  these 
still  survive.  For  instance  if  an  individual  belonged  to 
a  chevra  or  burial  society,  you  will  still  see  the  rough 
customs  that  offend  our  best  instincts.  I  have  often 
been  outraged  at  seeing  an  official  shake  a  money  box- at 
frequent  intervals  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  in  order 
to  solicit  donations.  Again  I  think  the  final  farewell  of 
the  relatives  should  be  taken  privately,  and  not  in  the 
presence  of  the  gaping  crowd.  It  must  be  very  hard  to 
have  to  pour  out  their  agony  in  the  midst  of  the  assem- 
bled throng. 

A  perhaps  unavoidable  evil  is  the  desecration  of 
the  solemnity  of  burial  by  pausing  to  take  refresh- 
ments at  a  way-side  inn.  Whatever  sanctity  may  have 
pervaded  the'occasion,  is  dissipated  in  the  eating,  drink- 
ing, smoking  and  gossip  that  now  ensues.  We  talk  of 
barbarians  having  funeral  feasts — what  is  this  ?  It  is 
worth  any  sacrifice  to  change  this — I  might  almost 
say — scandal. 

The  great  distance  of  the  cemeteries  make  it  difficult 
to  avoid  this  evil.  But  thiscongregation^in  particular,  if 
I  may  make  a  specific  reference,  has  a  simple  remedy  at 
hand. and  its  example  may  induce  other  congregations  to 
follow.  Since  our  very  small  cemetery  is  almost  filled, 
and  since  ours  is  the  farthest  north  of  all  the  New  York 
Temples,  and  the  greatest  distance  from  the  burial 
centre  at  Cypress  Hills  and  its  neighborhood,  it  is 


surely  high  time  that  we  lay  out  a  cemetery  of  our  own 
a  few  miles  north  of  this  building,  that  could  be  reached 
by  a  carriage  in  an  hour.  I  am  sure  that  it  would  be  a 
great  boon  to  those  who  wish  to  visit  the  graves  of  their 
departed  from  time  to  time. 

And  now  what  is  our  duty  to  our  mourning  friends  ? 
Certainly  to  visit  them  during  the  early  days  after  the 
bereavement.  It  goes  without  saying  that  we  should 
not  officiously  try  to  comfort  them  with  stereotyped 
words  of  solace,  for  it  only  makes  them  feel  worse. 
There  are  many  little  attentions  that  I  need  hardly  enu- 
merate, but  that  you  will  understand.  Do  not  necessa- 
rily speak  of  the  departed  one  at  all, rather  talk  of  other 
things,unless  the  bereaved  show  a  desire  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  sad  end,  and  seem  to  find  relief  in  the  telling. 
Still  it  may  be  well  occasionally  to  try  and  take  them 
out  of  themselves,  so  that  for  the  moment  at  least  they 
may  forget  the  ever-present  sorrow.  Do  not  be  too 
severe  with  them  in  the  enforcing  of  Ritual  regulations, 
telling  them  they  must  not  wear  shoes  or  sit  on  chairs, 
or  exchange  greetings  with  friends;  that  they  must  not 
leave  the  house,  that  they  must  tear  their  garments  in  a 
prescribed  way  to  symbolise  the  rending  of  clothing  in 
violent  grief.  Give  grief  the  liberty  of  mourning  accord- 
ing to  its  natural  impulse. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  they  wish  to  do  these  things,  if 
the  fulfilling  of  these  observances  comforts  them,  do  not 
irritate  them  by  opposing  their  wishes.  Do  not  offend 
their  sensibilities  by  brutally  telling  them  that  the 
covering  of  mirrors  with  white  cloths  is  merely  an 
ignorant  superstition;  this  certainly  is  not  the  time  to 
criticise  a  custom  sanctioned  at  least  by  age.  In  brief, 
show  a  little  tact  by  using  every  consideration  to  spare 
the  feelings  of  your  suffering  friends. 

And  to  the  mourners,  let  me  also  say  :  In  grieving  for 


10 


the  departed,  forget  not  the  living.  You  owe  it  to  those 
still  left  you  to  control  feelings  that  are  too  violent,  to 
struggle  against  a  depression  that  is  too  prolonged. 
Death  is  not  an  exceptional  visitation  to  be  deplored  as 
tragedy;  it  is  a  universal  experience,  in  each  case  is 
merely  a  question  of  time,  one  of  the  unbroken  laws  of 
God,  surely  ordained  with  a  wisdom  and  a  love  beyond 
our  finite  vision.  To  brood  too  long  over  your  loss  may 
lead  to  a  melancholy  you  may  never  be  able  to  shake  off. 
To  grope  around  the  house  with  tearful  dolefulness  for 
long  after  like  a  reproach  at  everything  cheerful,  to 
make  your  presence  a  damper  on  the  exuberance  of 
youthful  buoyancy  in  your  home  is  useless  at  best,  and, 
when  carried  to  an  extreme,  is  selfish  and  unkind.  For 
there  is  such  a  condition  as  the  luxury  of  grief,  in  which 
it  is  weakness  to  indulge.  Bear  in  mind,  that  grief 
is  hardly  a  duty,  and,  when  it  is  not  felt,  no  law  either 
social  or  moral  declares  that  you  should  assume  a 
sorrow  you  cannot  feel.  In  asking  you  to  abstain  from 
gaieties  and  public  amusements  for  a  time,  to  dress  in 
sober  hue  out  of  respect  for  the  departed,  is  going  as 
far  as  the  world  dare.  Any  further  restriction  or  impo- 
sition would  become  an  unjustifiable  interference  with 
the  sanctity  of  privacy. 

All  deeper  signs  of  grief  must  be  kept  within  your  own 
soul.  You  must  not  carry  your  heart  upon  your  sleeve 
nor  ask  for  an  audience  to  witness  your  tears.  They 
are  for  the  solitude  of  your  own  chamber,  not  even  for 
the  family  circle  —  give  them  your  smile.  To  smile  in 
suffering  in  order  to  cheer  others  —  that  is  heroism.  It 
is  not  by  a  pervading  gloom  that  we  show  that  the 
departed  are  not  forgotten.  There  are  truer  and  less  os- 
tensible ways  of  showing  the  endurance  of  our  affection 
not  covered  by  law  or  rule.  The  picture  of  the  loved 
and  lost  not  discarded  ;  every  relic  of  the  dear  one  jeal- 


ii 


ously  treasured  ;  every  little  memento  kept  in  its  place 
and  not  allowed  to  become  ruined  and  destroyed  by 
neglect  All  the  different  wishes  expressed  in  the  life- 
time of  the  deceased  faithfully  followed  now  when  they 
are  not  present  to  see  and  rebuke.  "  1  do  not  do  that 
because  father  never  liked  me  to  do  it  when  he  was 
alive." 

I  enter,  let  us  say,  a  home  from  which  a  parent  has 
passed  away  some  years  ago.  There  is  no  longer  the 
depression  of  mourning,  but  a  something  I  cunn  ot  define 
assures  me  of  a  pervading  presence  of  the  departed.  The 
sons  and  daughters  are.  of  course,  no  longer  dressed  in 
mourning,  iheir  talk  has  not  that  peculiar  hush  notice- 
able in  the  first  few  weeks  of  bereavement.  There  is  no 
sadness  now,  there  is  even  cheer  ;  and  yet  there  is  a 
something  of  which  they  are  quite  unconscious  them- 
selves, but  which  tells  me  that  the  spirit  of  the  one 
gone  before  still  hovers  over  the  home,  as  though  the 
parental  influence  had  entered  their  lives,  giving  to  them 
an  added  sweetness  and  a  new  purity  that  will  abide 
with  them  to  the  last  day. 


-T  H  K- 


PEOPLE    OF    THE     BOOK, 

A  Bible  History  for  Jewish  Schools,  on  a  new  plan. 

Contains  much  miscellaneous  information  that  will  materially 

assist  the  Teacher  and  make  the  subject  more  interesting 

and  more  instiuctive  to  the  pupil, 

BY 

MAURICE  H.  HARRIS,  A.  M..   PH.  D. 

Rabbi  of  Temple  Israel  of  Harlem,  N.  Y. 


Vol.  I. — From  the  Creation  to  the  Death  of  Moses. 

Second  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged. 

Book  I.  — Early  Tradition.  Book  II. — Patriarchal  Ages. 

Book  III.— Exodus.  Book  iV.— Law. 

Book  V. — Close  of  Moses'  Leadership. 

Appendix,  Prayers,  Hy»ins,  Calendar,  Exam.  Questions^  &°c. 

Vol   II. — From  the  Conquest  to  the  Death  of  Solomon . 
Book  I.     The  Period  of  the  Conquest. 

Book  II.  —  First  Stage  of  the  Monarchy. 

Book  HI — The  Rise  of  Judah. 

Vol.  111. — From  the  Secession  to  the  Exile. 
Book  I. —The  Rival  Kingdoms. 

Book  II. — The  Influence  of  the  Prophets. 

Book  III — The  Survival  of  Judah. 


OPINIONS   OF   THE   PRESS. 

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forward and  sensible  as  to  deserve  the  attention  of  all  young  teachers  in  Sunday 
Schools.  The  handling  of  the  early  chapters  in  Genesis  is  admirably  ".reverent  and 
rational."— /V.  V.  Herald. 

"  It  is  gratifying  to  find  our  Hebrew  brethren  doing  such  excellent  work  for 
their  Sunday  Schools.  This  little  volume  is  vastly  ahead  in  its  treatment  of  the  Old 
Testament  of  the  great  mass  of  literature  on  this  subject  prepared  for  children.  ' — 
Christian  Keftster. 


5O  cents  each  Volume  or  35. 4O  per  Dozen. 


PHILIP  COWEN,  213-215  EAST  44TH  STREET, 

NEW   YORK. 


IS  PROSELYTISM  A  DUTY  OF  JUDAISM  ? 


Is  Proselytisma  Duty  of  Judaism: 


It  is  very  seldom  that  people  wake  up  to  a  fulness  of 
their  religious  responsibilities.  They  may  consider  their 
religion  in  relation  to  themselves,  but  not  always  in 
relation  to  the  world  at  large.  A  belief  in  a  faith  must 
necessarily  be  accompanied  by  a  deep  interest  in  its  fate 
and  in  its  future.  Is  Judaism  a  tribal  religion,  for  Jews 
only,  or  is  it  a  religion  for  mankind  ?  We  know  that 
religion  for  a  tribe  or  for  a  nation  is  an  anachronism  in 
modern  times.  If,  then,  we  believe  that  we  have  reached 
a  pure  and  lofty  conception  of  God  and  duty,  such  as 
would  be  capable  of  guiding  life  and  inspiring  it,  ought 
we  not  to  give  it  forth  to  the  world,  instead  of  keeping 
it  selfishly  for  ourselves?  Is  it  not  our  duty  to  seek  to 
make  converts  to  Judaism  ? 

We  have  so  often  reiterated  the  remark  that  Judaism 
does  not  seek  converts  that  we  have  almost  made  it  a 
dogma  of  our  faith.  Is  it  something  to  be  so  proud  of, 
looking  at  it  from  all  points  of  view?  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  sentiment  does  not  only  not  do  us  credit,  but, 
what  is  more  important,  it  is  not  true.  In  this  glib  for- 
mula, we  have  rather  overstated  a  tendency  that  has 
really  arisen  out  of  external  conditions.  There  was  a 
law  on  the  statute-books  of  most  countries  forbidding 
any  to  embrace  Judaism,  under  severe  penalty,  that  has 
only  just  become  a  dead  letter.  And,  independent  of 
that  law,  Je\vs,  as  Jews,  were  saddled  with  so  many  dis- 
abilities -that  it  was  rare  indeed  that  any  one  would 
voluntarily  assume  the  hardships  imposed  on  the  Jews, 
simply  out  of  love  of  their  faith,  although  such  instances 
did  occur.  But  when  times  were  brighter  with  us, 
before  our  iron  age  began,  and  even  in  its  early  stages 


/4f 

conversions  to  Judaism  were  remarkably  frequent,  and 
many  Jews  sought  converts  to  their  faith  with  much 
enthusiasm. 

That  frequent  coincidence  in  history,  that  the  victors 
became  the  disciples  of  the  vanquished,  was  repeated 
during  the  Babylonian  captivity.  Many  of  the  Baby- 
lonians were  drawn  towards  a  religion  that,  strange  to 
say  at  that  time,  did  not  fall  with  the  nationality  of  its 
followers,  and  were  inspired  by  the  fidelity  of  those 
exiles  whose  faith  in  their  God  remained  unshaken, even 
at  the  supreme  moment  of  their  overthrow. 

The  absurdity  of  idolatry — that  a  man  might  use  one- 
half  of  a  tree  to  kindle  fire  and  fashion  the  other  half 
into  a  god — pointed  out  by  the  keen  satire  of  that  un- 
known prophet  called  the  Second  Isaiah,  had  also  its 
profound  influence  in  bringing  many  of  the  heathen  to 
the  worship  of  the  spiritual  God  of  the  Jews.  Not  only 
did  these  new  converts  keep  the  Sabbath,  enter  into  the 
Abrahamic  covenant,  and  fulfil  the  Jewish  ceremonial, 
but  even  when  the  permission  of  Cyrus  was  given  to 
Judah  to  return  to  Jerusalem,  many  of  these  proselytes, 
like  the  "  mixed  number  from  Egypt,"  went  up  with 
them.  The  example  of  the  converts  reacted  on  the  Jews, 
and  deepened  their  confidence  in  their  faith.  When  John 
Hyrcanus  subdued  the  Idumeans,  he  actually  compelled 
them  to  embrace  Judaism,  giving  only  the  choice  of 
exile;  and  while  we  take  no  pride  in  this  solitary  instance 
of  Jewish  intolerance  carried  to  that  extreme,  it  proves 
the  eagerness  of  our  ancestors  to  bring  converts  to  their 
faith. 

Later  on,  when  Jews  were  thrown  more  in  contact 
with  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  latter,  impressed  by  the 
purity  and  spirituality  of  the  Mosaic  faith,  became  more 
dissatisfied  with  their  own  deities,  whose  lives,  even  from 
a  human  standpoint,  as  told  by  their  poets,  were  any- 


thing  but  exemplary;  while  many  pure-minded  women, 
both  of  Damascus  and  Asia  Minor,  were  finding  the 
immoralities  of  heathenism  of  growing  repugnance.  So. 
becoming  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  Jewish 
religion  through  the  Greek  translation  of  their  Bible  and 
literature,  many  gladly  sought  in  the  new  faith  higher 
ideals  of  life,  and  became  devout  converts.  The  change 
in  character  was  significant  indeed.  Philo-Judaeus  tells 
us  of  the  marked  improvement  in  moderation,  gentle- 
ness and  humanity. 

So  eager  were  the  Jews  to  win  over  their  neighbors 
from  absurd  beliefs  that  sanctioned  vices,  to  the  great 
religion  that  made  God  and  righteousness  one,  that  they 
resorted  to  a  strange  device.  Seeing  that  the  Greeks 
had  great  faith  in  the  mystic  teachings  of  the  sybils — 
women-prophets,  presumed  to  be  inspired  by  the  gods, 
and  fearing  that  their  public  attempts  at  conversion 
would  not  be  given  credence,  even  if  permitted  at  all — 
they  put  the  vital  truths  of  Judaism  in  the  form  of  Greek 
sibylline  prophecies.  To  put  one's  words  in  the  mouths 
of  ancient  teachers  to  gain  for  them  authority,  was  a 
common  practice  of  antiquity,  of  which  some  instances 
are  even  found  in  the  Bible  and  Apocrypha.  Literary 
conscientiousness  is  a  very  modern  virtue. 

That  some  Jews  actually  travelled  from  place  to  place 
to  make  converts  is  the  best  reply  to  the  theory  that  pro- 
selytism  is  against  our  principles.  And  very  successful 
these  missionaries  were.  A  Jewish  merchant  at  an 
Asiatic  court  expounded  the  principles  of  his  faith  with 
such  fervor  that  his  hearers  embraced  it  then  and  there- 
The  historian,  Graetz,  goes  on  to  tell  us  how  a  young 
prince  was  among  the  converts,  and  that  his  queen- 
mother,  Helen,  had  become  such  a  passionate  adherent 
of  Judaism  that  she  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem, 
and  aided  it  in  time  of  famine. 


Judaism  grew  very  popular  in  Rome  and  Asia  Minor 
in  the  last  days  of  the  Jewish  state,  and  even  after  it  had 
fallen,  in  an  age  when  religions  were  supposed  to  be 
overthrown  with  their  nationalities;  and  when  the  out- 
look for  our  faith  was  dark  and  uncertain,  many  con~ 
tinued  to  renounce  their  family  ties  to  embrace  the  creed 
of  our  fathers.  Much  of  the  persecution  of  the  Jews  by 
Tiberias  was  due  to  the  leaning  of  many  Romans  toward 
Judaism,  among  whom  we  may  mention  Fulvia,  wife  of 
a  Roman  Senator.  Josephus  tells  us  how  zealous  they 
were  even  for  the  ceremonial  side  of  our  faith. 

Some  became  Talmudic  scholars.  Aquila,  a  Greek 
philosopher,  outdid  the  proverbial  enthusiasm  of  a  con- 
vert. And  his  Greek  translation  of  the  Bible  became 
such  a  model  of  exactness,  that  an  Aramaic  translation 
on  the  same  plan  was  named  after  it,  Targum  Onkelos 
(Aquila). 

The  Emperor  Domitian,  whose  forte  was  cruelty,  made 
it  dreadfully  hard  for  the  Jews,  but  still  harder  for  their 
proselytes.  They  were  despoiled  of  their  property, 
exiled,  and  sometimes  put  to  death.  But,  in  spite  of  all, 
a  cousin  of  the  Emperor  named  Flavins  Clemens, 
entered  the  Jewish  faith,  together  with  his  wife  Flavia 
Domitilla,  and,  be  it  remembered, their  son  was  a  possible 
heir  to  the  Empire.  Think  of  the  might-have-beens  of 
history  !  Constantine,  a  later  Emperor,  adopts  Chris- 
tianity and  makes  it  the  religion  of  Rome,  which  was 
the  world.  Henceforward,  we  hear  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire,  and  Christianity  became  the  religion  of  the 
nations  of  Europe  into  which  that  Empire  broke  up. 
Might  not  Judaism  have  held  this  proud  place  had  Dom- 
itian followed  his  cousin's  example,  or,  perhaps,  even  if 
he  had  not  interfered  with  it  ?  But  these  are  idle  con- 
jectures. Alas  !  Flavius  Clemens  was  condemned  to 
death  for  the  crime  of  Judaism,  for  which  heinous  offence 


even  his  relationship  to  the  Emperor  could  not  save  him; 
and  his  wife  was  exiled. 

Conditions  continued  to  grow  rapidly  darker  for  Israel. 
Hadrian  made  Judaism  a  capital  offence  even  for  Jews; 
and  glad  enough  they  were  when  Antoninus  Pius  allowed 
them  to  follow  their  faith  in  peace,  considering  it  no 
hardship  that  only  proselytism  was  not  permitted.  But 
the  climax  was  reached  when  Constantine  exchanged 
Paganism  for  Christianity.  The  days  of  partial  tolera- 
tion were  over.  The  imperial  edict  went  forth,  no  Jews 
dare  make  converts,  no  individual  dare  adopt  their  faith. 
Here  is  the  real  source  of  the  discouragement  by  us  of 
would-be  converts  to  Judaism,  which  we  have  mistaken 
for  a  dogma.  Our  faith  was  declared  a  contraband 
article  forbidden  by  law. 

Still,  there  is  one  renowned  instance  of  conversion  to 
Judaism,  several  centuries  later  immortalized  in  Jehuda 
Ha-Levi's  Cusari.  Bulan,  king  of  the  Chozars,  a  now 
vanished  people  who  dwelt  on  the  border  land  between 
Europe  and  Asia  on  the  Caspian  Sea.  desired  to  be  con. 
vinced  of  the  true  religion  and,  sending  for  representa- 
tives of  the  three  great  faiths,  Judaism,  Christianity  and 
Mohammedanism,  was  so  impressed  with  the  faith  of  our 
fathers  that  he  and  his  people  adopted  it;  the  details  are 
legendary,  but  the  general  fact  is  historic. 

Outside,  then,  of  this  conversion  of  the  Chozars  and 
an  attempt  to  convert  Mohammedans  in  Spain  about 
the  year  1066.  for  which  they  were  dreadfully  persecuted, 
proselytes  to  Judaism  were  rare  and  surreptitious. 
The  Jews  could  hardly  call  their  lives  their  own;  and 
if  they  could  hold  their  own,  it  was  as  much  as  they 
could  do. 

But  those  dark  days  are  over,  and,  let  us  hope,  for 
ever.  In  Western  countries,  even  the  age  of  toleration 
is  past.  We  have  advanced  beyond  that  word.  We  no 


longer  beg  gracious  privileges  as  Jews;  we  demand  just 
rights  as  men.  Occasionally  a  Gentile  enters  the  Jewish 
fold,  as  you  very  well  know.  You  know,  too,  that  the 
law  does  not  interfere;  it  is  considered  nobody's  business 
except  the  party  concerned.  And,  yet,  we  seem  to  care 
so  little  for  what  our  ancestors  would  have  considered 
so  great  a  boon,  that  I  doubt  if  many  pause  to  think  of 
the  gigantic  gain  implied  in  this  perfect  religious  liberty. 
Here,  at  last,  is  our  opportunity,  and  yet,  outside  of  a 
few  exceptional  instances  of  proselytism,  in  which  the 
question  of  marriage  is  usually  a  factor,  we  are  making 
no  efforts  to  bring  converts  into  our  faith.  We  are  not 
doing  our  whole  duty  in  this  negative  attitude,  either  to 
our  religion  or  to  the  world  at  large.  We  are  shirking 
a  great  responsibility. 

Do  I  mean  that  we  should  endeavor  to  wean  others 
from  their  faith?  God  forbid.  A  man's  religion  is  the 
profoundest  part  of  him.  We  have  no  more  right  to 
take  away  one's  religion  than  to  take  away  his  property, 
unless  we  know  that  his  convictions  are  false,  malicious 
and  dangerous.  We  have  not  the  excuse  to  offer  that 
the  Christian  has  for  pursuing  proselytism  so  fanatically 
We  do  not  believe  that  our  faith  is  the  only  door  to 
heaven — the  only  way  to  God.  We  see  a  relative  truth 
and  a  legitimate  right  in  other  faiths.  If  they  are  firmly 
believed  and  conscientiously  followed,  we  would  feel  it 
undoubtedly  wrong  to  disturb  them.  We  only  wish  that 
others  would  assume  that  same  attitude  towards  us.  We 
have  so  strongly  condemned  that  tendency  of  some  dis- 
creditable representatives  of  the  faith  of  our  neighbors 
to  steal  devoted  believers  from  Judaism  in  order  to  swell 
their  ranks,  that  it  would  be  little  short  of  infamous  to 
adopt  that  course  ourselves. 

But  there  are  many  nominally  within  the  Church  who 
no  longer  believe  its  cardinal  doctrine,  whq  are  really 


nearer  to  us  than  to  the  Church  to  which  they  give  a 
formal  allegiance.  There  are  still  more  who  have  all 
but  officially  renounced  the  faith  of  their  birth,  because 
no  longer  believing  in  the  Trinity,  in  Vicarious  Atone- 
ment, in  Everlasting  Punishment,  nor  even  in  the 
Messiahship  of  the  Nazarene.  There  are  many  who, 
because  no  longer  believing  in  the  current  creed,  while 
strongly  deistic,  have  drifted  into  freethinking  and 
agnostic  societies,  who  might  have  found  sustaining  and 
comforting  faith  within  the  fold  of  Judaism,  had  its 
doors  been  invitingly  open  to  them. 

Judaism  is  the  only  legitimate  representative  of  Mono- 
theism. It  is  not  a  faith  of  yesterday.  It  is  not  a  plat- 
form deliberately  drawn  up  within  our  own  remem- 
brance, and,  therefore,  likely  to  be  superseded  by  the 
latest  ideas  of  every  new  comer,  which  is  the  weakness 
of  new-fashioned  creeds  and  brand  new  religions.  It 
was  the  first  pure  Monotheism;  its  roots  are  deep  down 
in  antiquity,  and  it  has  followed  every  upward  step  of 
man  from  patriarchal  times:  it  has  survived  all  changes 
of  human  outlook,  all  revolutions  of  human  thought;  it 
has  seen  schools  of  philosophy  and  systems  of  belief 
rise  and  decay.  And  here  it  abides  to-day,  the  oldest  of 
religions,  yet  including  within  itself  the  ripest  thought 
of  humanity. 

But  I  do  not  mean  that  we  should  go  out  and  seek 
even  those  who  believe  almost  as  we  do,  who  are  Jews 
in  all  but  sentiment  and  sympathy  and  association. 
Unless  it  be  an  instance  where  moral  salvation  is  in- 
volved, there  is  a  grave  doubt  in  my  mind  whether  a 
religion  is  justified  in  such  methods  as  will  entice  con- 
verts into  its  fold.  To  enter  into  unworthy  rivalry  with 
other  faiths — to  stoop  to  undignified  competition — such 
methods  belong  only  to  the  world  of  trade,  and  bring 
religion  into  degradation  and  ridicule.  I  ask  no  more 
than  that  the  synagogue  should  be  hospitable  in  every 
sense,  that  our  doors  should  be  open  wide  to  all  who 
wish  to  come,  that  we  should  cordially  and  sympatheti- 
cally greet  whoever  seek  us,  and  not  indifferently  turn 
to  them  a  cold  shoulder,  as  though  their  religious  wel- 
fare were  no  concern  of  ours.  If  we  really  believe  in 


the  truth  and  helpfulness  of  our  faith,  we  have  no  moral 
right  to  discourage  others  from  joining  it.  That  is  pure 
selfishness,  and  selfishness  and  religion  can  never  exist 
together. 

Unquestionably  it  is  our  duty  to  our  religion  and  to 
ourselves  to  let  the  world  know  what  that  religion  is — 
its  beauties,  its  grandeur,  its  inspiring  and  eternal  truths. 
We  have  no  right  to  shut  it  up  in  mysterious  books  and 
strange  tongues,  and  encourage  others  to  believe,  as 
some  do,  that  it  is  made  up  of  ceremonies  instead  of 
convictions.  We  withdraw  it  from  the  eye  of  the  world, 
concealing  it  in  obscure  forms,  instead  of  broadly  pub- 
lishing its  goodly  tidings  in  all  their  simplicity,  that  all 
may  freely  come  and  drink  from  the  living  waters  with- 
out money  and  without  price.  When  the  heathen  comes 
to  us  and  says,  "  Tell  us  your  religion  in  a  nutshell," 
we  do  not  act  as  disciples  of  Hillel,  first  gently  giving 
the  epitome  of  morals  in  a  pithy  sentence,  and  then 
invite  him  to  probe  deeper,  —we  imitate  Shammai  :  \ve 
coldly  tell  him  to  be  gone  ! 

No  wonder  the  world  forms  false  and  ridiculous 
notions  about  Judaism,  and  never  does  it  justice.  Even 
when  it  wishes  to  be  most  fair  to  Judaism,  it  only  pre- 
sents its  Bible  phase,  as  though  our  fa^ith  never  advanced 
beyond  the  conceptions  of  two  thousand  years  ago.  It 
may  be  convenient  for  our  neighbors  to  believe  that  they 
have  progressed,  and  we  have  stood  still;  that  we  cling 
yet  to  the  exploded  notions  of  antiquity,  and  have 
remained  through  all  these  centuries  in  that  half-devel- 
oped condition  in  which  Judaism  is  pictured  at  the  close 
of  the  Bible;  for  certainly  their  own  faith  would  gain  by 
such  a  contrast.  But  it  is  also  our  fault  that  they  should 
be  unaware  that  Judaism  has  kept  time  with  human 
progress,  and  has  assimilated  the  highest  and  the  best 
that  humanity  has  produced.  We  have  not  tried  to  tell 
them,  and  they  know  the  Bible  phase  best,  because 
they  have  translated  it  and  disseminated  it  for  them- 
selves. 

I  have  said  that  we  are  indifferent  as  to  whether  the 
outside  world  understands  or  misunderstands  the  vital 
truths  of  Judaism;  but  I  will  go  further  and  say  we  are 
indifferent  as  to  whether  our  own  understand  them, 


II 

pursuing  with  them  the  same  apathetic  nonchalance. 
Judaism  is  nor  made  simple  and  inviting  to  our  young 
generation.  And  so  they  are  drifting  from  us  and  we 
are  letting  them  go.  We  are  doing  nothing  to  save  our 
young  people  to  Judaism,  by  bringing  our  faith  to  them. 
We  have  not  enough  of  the  missionary  spirit.  Liberality 
has  become  a  cloak  for  indifference.  I  get  frightened  at 
the  appaling  ignorance  of  Judaism  among  our  young 
men  and  women.  I  see  them  drifting  into  skeptical 
societies  and  gradually  into  hopeless  materialism.  And 
we  are  to  blame. 

We  never  speak  of  our  faith  outside,  as  our  neighbors 
do  of  theirs.  We  shun  the  theme  as  though  we  were 
ashamed  of  it.  If  circumstances  force  us  to  say  a  word 
about  it,  we  do  so  apologetically,  perhaps  disparagingly. 
What  can  people  at  large  think  of  such  a  religion  ?  I 
know  that  persecution  and  ridicule  have  engendered 
that  timidity  and  withdrawal.  But  it  is  time  we  freed 
ourselves  from  the  associations  of  conditions  that  are 
past  and  dead.  We  must  regain  confidence  in  ourselves, 
and,  without  presuming  to  force  our  religion  on  the 
notice  of  others,  still,  when  the  occasion  calls  for  it,  let 
us  tell  the  story  of  our  faith,  modestly  and  yet  proudly, 
with  a  kindling  warmth  showing  that  we  feel  a  great 
treasure  is  ours  iti  the  possession  of  Judaism. 

If  we  really  love  our  faith  and  do  not  accept  it  as  a 
mere  inheritance,  but  believe  it  to  be  a  boon  to  humanity, 
the  simplest  and  the  truest  of  creeds,  the  best  guide  and 
support  for  a  human  life,  then  it  is  our  duty  to  look  to 
its  future  preservation,  to  enlarge  its  boundaries  and  to 
save  it  as  far  as  we  can  from  being  swallowed  up,  as  the 
causes  of  most  minorities  are.  It  must  grow  from  with- 
out as  well  as  from  within,  even  to  hold  its  own.  Every 
age  has  its  separate  problems  to  solve.  An  age  of 
emancipation  calls  for  means  for  sustaining  a  faith,  very 
different  from  those  which  an  age  of  persecution 
demanded;  so  Israel's  problem  is  different  to-day  from 
what  it  ever  was  before.  The  min^U'D  (ceremonial  fence 
around  tlve  law),  of  our  fathers  can  no  more  be  a  defence 
of  Judaism  to-day  than  walls  can  be  the  defence  of  cities 
in  this  age  of  cannon  and  gunpowder. 

To  desire  the  nations  to  enter  the  fold  of  Judaism,  is 
good  o'd  orthodox  doctrine.  The  prophets  preached  it. 


12 

Says  Zechariah,  "  Ten  men  of  all  nations  shall  take  hold 
of  the  skirt  of  him  that  is  a  Jew,  saying  we  will  go  with 
you,  for  we  have  heard  that  God  is  with  you."  The  first 
Isaiah  looks  forward  to  the  time  when  "the  mountain  of 
the  Lord's  house  shall  be  established  above  the  hills,  and 
all  nations  shall  flow  to  it.  saying  let  us  go  up  to  the 
house  of  the  God  of  Jacob,  for  from  Zion  goeth  forth 
the  law,  and  the  word  of  the  Lord  from  Jerusalem." 
Preaches  the  second  Isaiah,  "  Let  not  the  stranger  that 
hath  joined  himself  to  the  Lord  say — the  Lord  will 
separate  me  from  His  people,  for  the  strangers  that  join 
themselves  to  the  Lord,  to  minister  to  Him,  to  be  His 
servants,  to  keep  His  Sabbath,  even  them  will  1  make 
joyful  in  My  house  of  prayer,  for  My  house  shall  be 
called  a  house  of  prayer  for  all  peoples."  In  Solomon's 
prayer  at  the  dedication  of  the  Temple,  we  read:  "More- 
over concerning  the  stranger  that  is  not  of  Thy  people 
Israel,  who  hearing  of  thy  great  name  shall  pray  toward 
this  house,  oh  hearken  to  his  request  that  all  the  people 
of  the  earth  may  know  Thy  name  to  fear  Thee  '' 

Only  persecution  has  made  us  forget  the  broad  and 
liberal  standpoint  of  our  ancestors,  has  made  us  forget 
that  we  owe  a  religious  duty  to  the  world — that  our 
mission1  to  mankind  is  not  fulfilled  by  simply  remaining 
Jews  ourselves,  regardless  of  the  religious  condition  of 
humanity  at  large. 

I  believe  a  fear  of  persecution  is  at  the  bottom  of  our 
religious  timidity  and  exclusiveness  to-day.  "What! 
openly  make  converts  to  Judaism  !  Think  of  the  £is/ius 
you  will  bring  upon  your  heads  ?''  That  is  always  the 
cry  when  we  would  do  anything,  when  we  would  fain 
be  true  to  ourselves.  I  believe  much  of  the  anti-Semitism 
is  brought  against  us,  not  because  of  our  religion,  but 
because  of  our  open  and  flagrant  neglect  of  it,  and  the 
spread  of  infidelity  amongst  us.  Believing  and  observant 
Jews  always  win  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  the 
Gentiles,  in  civilized  lands  at  least,  and  Russia  is  not  a 
civilized  land.  Only  when  we  forget  our  traditions  do 
they  raise  against  us  the  cry:  "Behold  a  people  without 
a' religion — a  menace  to  the  State  !" 

Do  not  fear  your  religion — clo  not.  fear  the  preachings 
of  it  far  and  wide,  that  all  may  hear;  for  that  alone  was 
our  greatness  and  our  salvation  in  the  past,  that  alone 
will  be  our  greatness  and  salvation  in  the  future. 


THE  IDEAL  IN  LIFE. 


The  Ideal  in   Life, 

Language  expresses  thought  approximately,  but  not 
exactly.  The  "  half  that  is  concealed"  is  often  the  more 
precious.  We  commonplace  people  think  '  unutterable 
things,"  as  well  as  the  poets.  Impressions  surge  through 
our  brain,  too  blurred  and  incoherent  even  to  be  called 
thought;  this  is  where  thought  and  feeling  merge,  each 
vaguely  helping  out  the  other.  So  one  word  will  often 
stand  for  many  things,  taking  its  precise  meaning  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  speaker. 

Ideal  has  become  a  much  used  and  therefore  much 
abused  word;  many  liberties  have  been  taken  with  it. 
It  has  been  made  to  cover  too  much,  and  in  consequence 
.the  rabbinical  doctrine  has  held  good,  "  whoever 
increaseth  diminisheth,"  it-has  come  to  signify  too  little. 
Let  us  find  out  what  it  does  mean.  The  words  takes  us 
back  to  the  days  of  ancient  philosophy — when  the  great 
thinkers  began  trying  to  find  out  the  essence  of  all  things 
and  when  mind  and  matter  were  first  distinctly  con- 
trasted. Plato  is  the  philosopher  most  associated  with 
the  doctrine  of  ideas,  though  each  thinker  had  his  say 
about  it,  particularly  the  Jewish  philosopher  Philo.  It 
was  stated  by  Plato  that  every  common  object  or  thing 
had  some  general  prototype,  which  was  not  one  of  any 
particular  class,  but  which  possessed  the  qualities  of  all. 
This  general  model  although  it  existed  only  in  an  idea, 
was  nevertheless,  the  only  real,  unchanging  substance, 
the  objects  seen  around  us  were  but  ephemeral  forms. 
In  fact,  everything  that  is  known  to  human  experience 
is  but  a  passing  and  imperfect  copy  of  the  original  idea 
or  ideal  of  the  thing  itself,  as  it  absolutely  is.  This  ideal 
of  each  object  is  the  perfect  object  which  will  always 
survive  the  transient,  imperfect,  external  representation. 


When  people  then  speak  of  a  thing  as  ideal,  they  mean 
or  at  least  they  should  mean  it  approaches  almost  to  the 
perfect  model  which  the  mind  can  comprehend,  but 
which  imperfect  human  beings  cannot  actually  produce. 
When  therefore  you  have  an  ideal — an  ideal  of  duty,  of 
government,  of  home,  of  labor,  of  beauty,  of  humanity — 
your  brain  conceives  the  most  lofty  and  finished  con- 
ceptions of  these  things  of  which  it  is  capable,  though 
no  government  or  duty  ever  exists  on  earth  quite  up  to 
your  ideal  of  it. 

In  the  realm  of  literature  and  art,  ideal  may  seem  to 
mean  something  else,  but  you  will  find  presently  that  it 
takes  us  back  to  the  same  principle.  You  hear  of  the 
realists  and  the  idealists.  Realism  was  reaction  against 
that  romantic  tendency  that  wandered  too  far  from  the 
truth  in  giving  full  rein  to  the  imagination  and  the  senti- 
ment. It  began  to  be  felt  that  better  truth,  however 
unlovely,  than  falsehood,  however  sublime.  In  art  it 
was  called  the  pre-Raphaelite  movement. 

Writers  and  artists  had  dwelt  so  long  on  the  ideals  of 
things,  that  they  had  misrepresented  things  as  they  are, 
as  known  to  human  experience.  Let  us  go  back  to 
nature  and  to  life,  and  study  them  faithfully  and  min- 
utely said  the  new  school.  Let  us  despise  no  fact,  pro- 
vided it  be  true,  let  us  distrust  every  impression  that  can. 
not  be  verified  in  the  world  of  the  actual. 

A  new  zest  was  thus  given  to  the  investigation  of 
minute  details  previously  overlooked  and  ignored,  and 
many  valuable  data  and  interesting  descriptions  were 
thereby  given  to  the  world.  Then  came  an  era  of  micros- 
copic detail,  every  line  in  a  spider's  web,  every  speck  in 
a  butterfly's  wing  found  its  place  on  canvas  and  in  fiction. 
So  far  was  this  theory  of  fidelity  to  all  that  the  world  of 
sense  contained  carried  out,  that  nothing  was  considered 
too  revolting  for  description,  provided  it  be  true,  that 


in  fact  it  was  expressly    meritorious  to  give  faithful  pre- 
sentation of  the  undesirable. 

Realism  did  good  in  so  far  as  it  discouraged  loose 
representation  that  was  untrue  to  life,  and  in  so  far  as  il 
stimulated  scientific  exactness  and  conscientiousness.  It 
pricked  many  bubbles,  it  cleared  the  air  of  a  thousand 
follies.  It  ceased  to  be  good  when  it  sweepingly  excluded 
the  imaginative  and  the  ideal.  There  is  a  fundamental 
distinction  between  false  images  and  ideal  images, 
between  ideas  of  imaginatiou  that  are  disciplined  by 
noble  purpose,  and  imagination  run  wild.  The 
things  that  appear  to  the  external  senses  are  not  the  only 
facts  of  life,  nor  the  truest,  nor  those  of  most  enduring 
value.  There  is  more  in  the  world  of  the  unseen  and 
the  unrealized  than  in  the  world  of  the  seen  and  the 
realized.  What  man  may  attain  but  has  not  is  a  truth 
too — not  of  the  moment,  perhaps,  not  seen  casually  in  the 
street,  not  ready  to  be  reported  in  this  evening's  "Extra,"' 
but  what  may  grow  into  a  deepening  truth  as  man 
advances.  And  the  attempted  representation  of  it  here 
is  a  grand  and  inspiring  ideal  to  hold  up  to  him. 

For  instance  a  moralist  pictures  life  as  it  ought  to  be 
— a  realist  life  as  it  is.  The  idealist  in  fiction  gives  us  a 
Jean  Val  Jean,  a  Colonel  Newcombe,  pictures  of  men 
perhaps  better  than  they  exist.  The  realist  takes  an 
incident  of  passing  life,  of  human  depravity  or  human 
selfishness,  exactly  as  we  may  read  it  depicted  in  the 
morning  newspapers,  not  giving  it  an  extra  touch  or 
finish  for  better  or  for  worse,  not  toning  down  its  repul- 
sive features  nor  caricaturing  its  better  side,  but  painting 
it  exactly  as  seen  by  our  daily  human  experience,  in 
moving  among  the  crowds  of  commonplace,  unideal 
worldly  people;  not  calling  them  beautiful  if  they  are 
not  beautiful,  nor  tender  and  self-denying  if  they  are 
not  lender  and  self-denying.  Surely  this  is  the  truth, 


A 


he  claims  and  better  frankly  to  depict  it  however  un- 
lovely it  may  be  than  to  deceive  by  pictures  of  impos- 
sible persons  good  beyond  the  bounds  of  human  capa- 
bility. 

That  a  writer  should  not  give  us  individuals  so  exalted 
above  human  experience,  as  to  cease  to  be  human,  and 
hence  unhuman  —as  false  to  reality,  as  elves  and  fairies, 
is  a  sensible  conclusion  about  which  there  need  be  no 
difference.  But  that  a  writer  should  combine  in  one 
individual  the  excellencies  of  many,  and  thereby  give  us 
a  glorious  and  yet  true  picture  of  humanity  in  this  com- 
posite photograph,  is  the  triumph  of  art  and  the  inspira- 
tion of  man.  We  do  not  need  an  artist  to  present  to  us 
things  as  we  see  them  -  this  is  not  art:  but  to  choose  his 
materials  from  the  things  that  we  see  and  know,  and  so 
to  arrange  them  as  really  to  give  us  something  new,  yet 
not  a  purely  fanciful  creation;  this  will  delight  us  and 
spur  us  on  by  showing  us  what  noble  men  and  women 
we  all  can  become  if  we  unite  each  others  virtues  with 
our  own. 

So  while  giving  us  present  truth  the  idealist  is  also 
the  prophet  of  future  truth;  revealing  to  us  not  only 
what  we  are  to-day  but  what  we  ought  to  be  and  will  be 
at  some  later  day  and  what  we  should  be  trying  to  be 
every  day.  He  may  even  be  said  to  advance  the  era  of 
a  glorified  humanity  by  giving  the  impulse  towards  it  in 
the  presentation  of  it,  hastening  the  good  day  by  his 
inviting  and  beckoning  prophecy. 

It  may  be  said  that  on  the  same  lines  a  composite 
picture  of  human  badness  would  be  equally  true.  In  the 
first  place  the  awful  picture  of  the  possibilities  of  human 
depravity,  could  only  do  harm,  appaling  and  discourag- 
ing us  by  the  disclosure  of  our  united  infamies.  In  the 
second  place,  it  would  not  be  as  true  as  the  picture  of 
our  concentrated  excellencies,  for  that  is  a  growing 


truth,  while  the  other  is  a  vanishing  truth.  In  the  devel- 
opment of  man  the  lower  is  steadily  falling  away,  the 
higher  steadily  emerging;  and  in  our  onward  progress 
we  are  for  ever  leaving  further  behind  the  animal,  in  its 
carnality,  cruelty  and  savagery  with  which  mankind 
began  his  upward*  march  towards  the  ideal  goal  of  per- 
fection. 

For  the  philosopher  Plato  is  essentially  if  not  techni- 
cally correct — there  is  an  ideal  of  humanity  which  is  the 
only  real,  of  which  we  are  but  imperfect  copies.  For 
do  not  we  say  that  we  are  true  to  ourselves  when  we 
bring  out  the  best  that  is  in  us,  implying  that  we  are 
not  ourselves  at  our  worst?  Then  it  is  that  we  approach 
nearest  to  the  ideal  which  is  the  only  real  humanity. 
And  in  this  sense  too  we  will  agree  with  the  philosopher, 
that  what  we  call  the  actual  is  not — being — in  so  far  as 
it  is  but  an  intermediary  process  in  which  we  are  slowly 
evolving  to  our  true  exalted  place  which  in  the  divine 
design  is  as  high  at  least  as  our  ideals  picture  it. 

This  difference  does  not  belong  merely  to  the  realm 
of  fine  art  and  literature  but  also  to  the  realm  that  most 
concerns  us  all,  the  realm  of  morals.  You  will  meet  two 
kind  of  teachers — there  is  first  humanity's  apologist,  who 
bids  us  be  self-satisfied,  who,  basely  content  with  our 
average  attainment,  looks  at  the  best  side  of  our  works 
and  our  doings,  and  ignoring  the  shameful  side,  flatters 
us  by  telling  us  in  glowing  periods  the  glories  of  our 
institutions  and  ourselves.  The  dishonesties,  the  be- 
trayals,the  venomous  partisanships,  the  sacrifice  of  public 
causes  to  private  self-interest — these  are  plausibly 
slurred  over,  and  conscience  is  lulled  to  sleep  by  dis- 
couraging comparisons  with  other  lands. 

There  is  on  the  other  hand  the  censurer  of  humanity. 
Why  did  the  prophets  so  unceasingly  scourge  the  Israel, 
ites  with  the  lash  of  their  rebukes;  they  were  probably 


8 


morally  ahead  of  their  surroundings?  Amos  and  Hosea 
might  have  taken  the  laudatory  self-complacent  tone  of 
some  of  our  modern  successful  men  and  preached  the 
glory  of  Israel.  In  the  reign  of  Jeroboam  II.  with  its 
external  splendor  and  successful  conquest,  there  was 
certainly  reason  and  excuse  for  adulation  and  self-ap- 
proval. Yet  in  the  times  considered  most  propitious 
did  they  paint  their  darkest  pictures.  Why?  Because 
their  standard  of  mankind  was  so  high  that  they  refused 
to  accept  the  present  condition  of  gilded  but  sinful 
indulgence  as  a  just  estimate  of  Israel's  valuation.  So 
really  humanity's  censurer  who  points  out  man's  sin 
has  yet  a  higher  opinion  of  mankind  than  humanity's 
apologist  why  dwells  on  his  excellencies. 

Here  then  both  the  idealist  and  the  materialist  may 
give  us  glimpses  of  human  frailty  and  passion,  but  with 
motives  so  divergent  that  the  whole  impression  of  the 
picture  in  each  instance  is  radically  distinct.  Zola  may 
show  you  the  night  side  of  Paris  and  say  "this  is  life — 
be  it  good  or  eyil  does  not  concern  me,  such  is  average 
humanity."  Isaiah  shows  us  the  night  side  of  Jerusalem, 
but  he  thrills  with  horror  while  he  depicts  the  picture 
and  makes  us  .understand  by  his  burning  denunciation 
that  this  is  not  the  normal  moral  tone  of  man,  that  it 
dare  not  be,  it  is  but  a  temporary  falling  to  a  lower  level 
above  which  men  must  soon  rise  to  that  lofty  plane  of 
conduct  designed  for  them  by  God.  Such  is  not  average 
humanity — such  is  not  the  most  we  can  expect  of  them 
— such  is  degraded  humanity,  a  grotesque  caricature  of 
the  divinely  stamped  creature,  an  awful  nightmare  from 
which  he  must  soon  awaken. 

The  idealist — he  who  would  vindicate  the  better  side 
of  man,  may  not  always  go  about  his  work  in  the  same 
way.  We  may  reach  the  same  truth  from  opposite 
directions.  If  at  times  it  is  his  duty  to  expose  the  rotten- 


ness  underlying  that  which  seems  fair,  at  other  times  it 
may  be  his  duty  to  reveal  the  nobility  of  man  under 
rough  and  uninviting  exterior.  Whether  we  show  that 
some  people  are  not  as  good  as  they  ought  to  be  and  can 
be,  or  that  others  are  better  than  they  seem,  the  encour- 
aging impulse  to  a  grander  human  ideal  is  still  main- 
tained. We  are  therefore  indebted  to  Mr.  Bret  Harte  for 
showing  us  the  tender,  generous  and  self-denying  touches 
in  hardened,  lawless  pioneers  on  the  Pacific  Slope.  The 
strange  mixture  of  blasphemy  and  poetry,  of  blood-shed 
and  chivalry,  show  us  in  these  alternate  lights  and  shades 
the  broad  capacity  for  good  and  evil  in  every  human 
being. 

I  think  that  Heinrich  Heine  and  Karl  Emil  Franzos, 
and  to  a  certain  extent,  even  Israel  Zangwill,  have  done 
something  of  the  same  service  for  the  Jew  of  the  Ghetto. 
The  world  at  large  saw  or  only  cared  to  see  the  squalid 
side.  These  writers  show  us  the  poetic  side.  Underneath 
uncouth  manners,  jargon,  dialect  and  narrow  formalism, 
inheritance  of  Gentile  bigotry,  they  revealed  a  slumbering 
nobility  and  moral  greatness  that  showed  them  still  to 
be  a  nation  of  heroes  with  lofty  ideals.  A  Jew  sunk  in 
the  depths  of  poverty  yet  poring  over  the  religious 
problems  of  the  Talmud,  is  a  condition  presented  by  the 
poor  of  no  other  people  on  the  globe.  Their  pictures  of 
the  Sabbath  home  in  the  humblest  Jewish  quarters, 
where  family  affection  is  hallowed  by  religious  sanctity, 
where  worship  is  hailed  as  a  joy,  and  duty  and  love 
become  one, are  at  once  the  Jew's  vindication  against  the 
slanderous  charges  of  sordid  materialism,  cupidity,  avar- 
ice and  spoliation,  which  are  the  periodic  slanders  of  his 
detractors. 

We  want  a  Heine  or  a  Bret  Harte  to  write  for  us  the 
inner  life  of  the  shamefully  abused  Russian  Jew — abused 
in  Russia  by  barbarities  which  we  would  not  inflict  even 


on  our  convicts,  abused  in  America  by  spiteful  and  cruel 
calumnies,  that  would  lay  all  crimes  and  all  evils  at  his 
door.  The  fact  that  the  world  should  bear  uppermost  in 
mind  is  that  they  are  sufferers  for  conscience  sake,  that 
they  are  martyrs  to  their  religious  convictions.  They 
are  here  because  they  refused  to  sell  their  souls  for  civil 
liberty,  because  they  refused  to  deny  their  God  and  to 
outrage  their  conscience,  by  outwardly  submitting  to  the 
formalities  of  another  creed  that  would  have  saved  them 
from  shameful  indignities,  unrighteous  exactions  and 
practical  exile,  not  to  mention  the  bribe  of  a  lump  sum 
down  as  the  price  of  their  apostacy.  They  are,  therefore 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  Puritans,  who.  also  ihe 
victims  of  persecution,  came  to  these  shores  to  worship 
God  as  their  hearts  dictated.  It  is  our  duty  to  reveal 
the  ideal  side  of  these  ''despised  and  rejected  of  men." 

Furthermore  we  should  make  it  our  mission  to  search 
for  the  good,  the  beautiful  and  the  heroic,  in  the  com 
monplace,  the  ignorant,  the  obscure,  just  as  the  miner 
delves  deep  into  the  dark  earth,  braving  its  polluting 
gases,  to  extract  the  rare  gem  embedded  in  the  rock  and 
soil.  Let  us  go  down  into  the  slums,  not  only  to  find 
out  the  sordidness  and  wretchedness  that  lie  upon  the 
surface  and  then  report  them  in  sensational  and  glaring 
tableaux  in  vulgar  newspapers — but  for  the  vindication  of 
humanity,  for  a  helpful  encouragement  to  both  high  and 
low  to  continue  their  slow  but  certain  progress  let  us 
show  how  a  sweet  usefulness  and  a  divine  pity  pervades 
the  hearts  of  "the  great  unwashed,''  who  swarm  the  pur- 
lieus of  large  cities. 

Reveal  also  to  these  forlorn  and  neglected  their  own 
*deal  side,  their  kinship  with  the  highest,  that  hope  may 
brighten  their  sad  hearts  and  noble  emulation  succeed 
their  blighting  apathy.  Poetry  and  prose  are  simply 
different  ways  of  looking  at  the  same  thing.  \Ve  are 


most  of  us  prosaic — we  see  the  dull  hard  facts  of  life  in 
their  gray  reality;  few  are  gifted  with  the  poet's  wand  or 
can  apply  the  magnetic  touch  that  would  raise  them 
from  the  realm  of  the  sordid  and  reveal  their  latent 
charms.  Yet  our  happiness  largely  depends  upon  ihis 
poetic  power.  We  must  believe  with  the  philosopher 
after  all,  that  what  we  see  are  copies  of  ideal  realities 
beyond,  and  our  aim  must  ever  be  to  catch  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  ideal  side  of  all  things.  You  can  throw 
a  charm  about  your  home,  and  around  the  simple  facts 
of  your  life  that  will  be  to  you  an  endless  source  of  cheer 
and  joy.  It  will  not  depend  upon  your  circumstances 
nor  on  things  themselves,  but  upon  your  power  of  ideal- 
ization. It  lifts  you  above  the  material  world  to  a  higher 
realm  in  which  all  things  are  exalted  and  you  with  them. 
Remember  that  since  God  has  put  Utopias  and  Arcadias 
in  our  hearts,  the  realization  of  these  ideals  may  come 
some  day. 

Is  not  this  the  province  of  religion  to  idealize  life,  and 
to  exalt  life's  ideals;  to  lift  it  out  of  the  slough:  to 
enhance  it;  to  transfigure  it;  to  raise  it  on  high.  What  is 
its  perpetual  lesson — be  not  satisfied  with  the  temporal: 
"not  on  bread  alone  doth  man  live,"but  move  ever  onward 
towards  the  divine  goal  that  must  never  be  lost  sight  of. 
This  is  the  truest  sense  in  which  it  may  be  said  to  bring 
salvation  and  a  Messianic  age.  It  is  ever  striving  to  cul 
tivate  our  taste  for  the  highest.  Listen  to  its  whisper- 
ing voice  within  you  to  come  up  higher,  and  to  make 
your  ideals  realities. 


SOPHISTS  AND  PHARISEES -OR,  THE 
VITALITY  OF  ERROR. 


Sophists  and  Pharisees;  or,  the 
Vitality  of  Error.* 

It  is  said  that  the  idle  straying  of  the  cows  decided 
later  the  high-ways  of  Boston,  and  we  all  know  that  a 
flight  of  birds  led  Columbus  to  sail  south  and  thus  save 
North  America  from  Spanish  civilization,  and  assure  its 
Anglo-Saxon  character.  History  is  full  of  these  chance 
currents  that  change  the  course  of  humanity's  progress. 
Even  the  reputation  of  the  leaders  of  men  hang  on  the 
turn  of  a  hair.  The  prejudice  or  venom  of  a  biased 
historian  may  blast  a  character  for  all  future  ages.  Later 
critics  may  try  to  set  things  right  by  learned  works  on 
"the  real  truth  about  so  and  so,"  but  the  slander  has 
gone  forth,  has  been  taken  up  by  the  people  and  the 
refutation  is  too  late.  Yet  we  will  not  hesitate  to  add 
our  little  word  to  the  cause  of  truth — to  try  and  plead 
again  for  the  misunderstood — perhaps  the  world  may 
give  a  new  trial  and  revoke  some  of  its  unjust  sentences. 
We  will  take  up  two  typical  instances,  one  from  the 
sphere  of  knowledge,  the  other  from  the  sphere  of 
religion. 

When  philosophy  in  Greece  had  reached  the  stage  of 
"confusion  worse  confounded,"  there  appeared  about 
500  B.  c.  E.,  a  class  of  men.  who,  seeing  the  impossibility 
of  a  decision  being  reached,  abandoned  altogether  the 
search  for  the  key  to  all  mysteries.  They  decided  to 
confine  their  energies  to  the  sphere  of  the  known  and 
the  practical,  reminding  us  somewhat  of  the  Positivist 
movement  of  modern  times.  They  were  called  Sophists 
which  means  "  men  of  wisdom " — for  they  came  as 
teachers  of  youth.  All  the  philosophers  hitherto  had 


given  lectures  to  young  men,  but  only  on  metaphysical 
themes.  Now,  Protagoras  of  Abdera  the  founder  of  the 
school  of  sophists  conceived  the  idea  of  preparing  such 
a  schedule  of*  studies  as  would  offer  a  practical  education 
for  conduct  and  civic  life — a  course  of  training,  not  to 
enable  them  to  reach  the  ideal  truth  which  was  the  aim 
of  all  philosophy,  but  simply  to  make  them  capable  and 
virtuous  citizens.  He  opened  at  first  four  new  branches 
of  study  or  sophistries  as  they  were  called;  culture, 
rhetoric,  politics  and  disputation. 

It  was  then  simply  a  movement  for  higher  education 
to  supplement  the  usual  instruction  in  reading,  writing^ 
gymnastics  and  music.  The  sophists  gave  particular 
attention  to  grammar,  style,  poetry,  oratory,  and  thus 
exercised  a  great  influence  on  literature,  and  helped  to 
raise  the  literary  standard  of  their  age.  Some  of  the 
sophists  who  followed  Protagoras  extended  the  scheme 
of  what  we  would  call  to-day  "  a  liberal  education,"  by 
adding  the  teaching  of  science  in  a  popular  way.  Some 
made  a  specialty  of  preparing  men  for  pleaders  in  the 
law  courts,  others  for  political  debaters.  The  sophists 
were  before  everything — educators.  There  had  been 
no  systematic  higher  and  literary  education  until  they 
came.  And  they  did  much  to  give  to  the  Athenians  their 
remarkable  versatility. 

Now  there  was  a  fear  that  a  special  training  for  success 
in  debate  taught  by  the  sophists,  might  lead  to  a  desire 
to  win  rather  than  a  desire  for  truth;  for  the  applause  of 
bystanders  rather  than  for  honest  conviction,  that  in  this 
way  they  might  be  tempted  to  use  brilliant  oratory  to 
cover  fallacious  reasoning.  This  fear  may  be  well 
founded,  but  it  would  apply  equally  to  all  speakers 
whether  trained  by  the  sophists  or  not.  The  accusations 
brought  against  the  sophists  that  they  cared  for  style 
more  than  matter,  for  effect  more  than  accuracy,  were 


simply  the  slanders  of  enemies;  though  in  its  decay  some 
worthless  pretenders  may  have  helped  to  bring  degrada. 
tion  on  this  school  of  teachers.  All  schools,  all  profes- 
sions and  all  religions  have  their  black  sheep.  Some 
doctors  are  quacks,  some  lawyers  are  unscrupulous,  some 
ministers  are  hypocrites.  These  sophists  were  the  first 
to  show  the  importance  of  elegance  of  writing  and 
grandeur  of  oratory — and  without  them  Demosthenes 
would  have  been  an  impossibility. 

To  a  certain  extent  even  the  sublime  moral  philoso- 
pher Socrates  was  a  sophist,  for  he  too  believed  that  it 
was  better  to  teach  young  men  virtue  and  excellence 
than  the  pursuit  of  theoretical  abstractions,  though  his 
aim  was  higher  than  that  of  the  sophists,  the  eventual 
attainment  of  truth;  theirs,  success  in  life.  Therefore, 
we  should  say  to-day,  Socrates  was  a  religious  teacher — 
the  sophists,  secular  teachers.  But  no  one  to-day  would 
think  of  condemning  teachers  who  turned  out  their 
pupils,  polished  gentlemen  of  culture  and  practical  men 
of  affairs,  on  the  ground  that  the  teachers  were  not  also 
ministers.  But  for  virtually  that  reason,  and  because 
they  taught  for  pay, instead  of  gratuitously  like  the  philo- 
sophers, the  sophists  were  condemned.  Plato  and 
Aristotle  had  only  mildly  to  criticise  their  methods  for 
their  reputation  for  all  future  time  to  be  blackened. 
Centuries  later  these  founders  of  our  modern  college 
education  were  believed  to  be  "  ostentatious  imposters» 
flattering  and  duping  rich  young  men  for  gain,  under- 
mining morality,  encouraging  their  pupils  in  the  un- 
scrupulous prosecution  of  ambition  and  cupidity."  A 
sophist  came  to  mean  a  deceptive  pleader  who  covered 
his  false  theories  by  plausible  language.  Sophistry  came 
to  mean  fallacious  reasoning.  And  this  historical  slander 
has  passed  current  for  2000  years. 

The  historian    Grote  has  been    among  the    first  to  dis- 


close  the  truth  about  the  sophists,  to  show  that  they 
were  "a  much  calumniated  race,^'  that  there  were 
sophists  and  sophists  just  as  there  were  philosophers  and 
philosophers. 

The  vindication  comes  almost  too  late;  sophistry  as  a 
synonym  for  sham  logic,  has  passed  into  language. 
You  will  find  it  so  defined,  in  all  the  dictionaries,  you 
use  the  term  yourself.  The  slander  will  live  in  spite  o 
the  denouement,  for  error  is  a  power  on  the  earth  as 
well  as  truth. 

Our  second  picture  in  illustration  of  the  vitality  of 
error,  brings  us  to  a  change  of  surroundings.  Since 
Hellenism  and  Hebraism  represent  the  two  great  ideas 
that  divide  the  world,  it  seems  eminently  fitting  that 
having  chosen  our  first  example  from  Greece  we  should 
take  our  second  from  Judea. 

It  is  as  natural  for  religions  as  for  politics  to  have 
their  separate  parties  that  give  outlet  not  only  to  differ- 
ence of  opinion  but  also  to  difference  of  temperament. 
They  even  both  use  the  same  terms  — Conservative  and 
Radical.  But  in  Judea,  Church  and  State  were  one,  so 
we  at  times  find  political  parties  divided  on  religious 
issues,  and  religious  parties  divided  on  political  issues. 
Therefore  in  describing  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  we 
cannot  separate  the  ecclesiastic  points  of  divergence 
from  the  civil. 

The  Sadducees  were  the  descendants  of  the  old  aristo- 
cratic priestly  families,  and  believed  in  maintaining  all 
the  privileges  and  honors  of  the  priestly  class,  and  con- 
fining all  religious  rites  to  them.  The  Pharisees  repre- 
sented the  popular  class  who  believed  in  making  Judaism 
democratic,  with  every  man  as  his  own  priest,  with  the 
right  to  perform  for  himself  every  ceremonial  function. 
Here  was  the  first  difference. 


Again  the  Sadducees  were  fashionable,  worldly,  ambi- 
tious, believed  in  cultivating  Greek  arts  and  manners, 
in  managing  the  Jewish  State  in  the  way  all  other 
governments  were  directed,  in  having  representatives 
at  the  courts  of  other  nationalities,  and  in  endeavoring 
by  their  own  energies  to  open  up  a  brilliant  political 
future  for  Judea.  The  Pharisees  wished  little  communi- 
cation with  outside  nations,  because  bitter  experience 
had  taught  that  it  invariably  led  to  idolatry.  They  were 
passionately  attached  to  the  Mosaic  Law — this  religious 
law  they  would  like  to  have  kept  as  the  law  of  the  land; 
for  they  wished  no  earthly  king.  God  alone  was  to  be 
their  king — the  nation  should  be  a  theocracy. 

This  leads  to  the  third  difference.  The  Pharisees  were 
zealous  to  obey  every  religious  rite  written  in  the  Mosaic 
Law,  or  implied  in  our  Rabbinical  law.  They  were 
scrupulously  observant  of  every  detail  of  ceremonial 
especially  with  regard  to  cleanliness  and  food.  Again' 
they  had  unbounding  trust  in  Providence,  believed  in 
future  rewards  and  punishments,  and  were  therefore 
deeply  submissive  to  the  Divine  will.  This  intense  faith 
made  them  forbearing,  chaste  and  heroic.  The  Sadducees 
were  more  rational  in  their  principles,  but  less  firm  in 
their  beliefs.  They  believed  in  the  future  life,  but  not 
in  rewards  and  punishments.  They  carried  out  the 
Mosaic  Law  with  stern  strictness,  but  would  not  accep1 
the  Oral  Law. 

On  the  whole  the  Pharisees  were  the  self-sacrificing, 
patriotic,  pious  party  of  the  common  people.  The 
Sadducees,  the  advanced,  cultured,  worldly  party  of  the 
aristocracy.  Each  party  had  its  drawbacks  and  its  com- 
pensations. We  admire  the  liberality  of  the  Sadducee, 
the  earnestness  of  the  Pharisee. 

But  what  was  remarked  in  reference  to  the  Sophists- 
must  be  repeated  here.  All  parties  have  their  scape-graces 


and  the  Pharisees  certainly  had  theirs.  None  is  more 
bitter  against  the  false  Pharisees  than  the  Talmud  itself 
— the  Zebuim  the  'painted  ones'  as  it  calls  them,  who  do 
evil  like  Zimri  and  then  claim  godly  reward  like  Phineas. 
In  its  severe  denunciation  of  false  Pharisees  it  divides 
them  into  six  classes. 

1.  Those  who  do  the  will  of  God  for  earthly  motives. 

2.  Those  ostentatious  ones  who  go  with  slow  steps  and 
say,  "wait  for  me  I  have  a  good  deed  to  perform." 

3  Those  who  knock  their  heads  against  a  wall  because 
never  looking  up  for  fear  they  might  see  a  woman. 

4.  Those  who  pose  as  saints. 

5.  Those  who  say  -tell  me  of  another  duty.    • 

6.  Those  who  are  pious,  because  afraid  of  God. 
Who    are   the   genuine  Pharisees   asks  the    Talmud — 

''They  who  do  the  will  of  their  Father  in  heaven,  because 
they  love  Him." 

The  founder  of  Christianity  also  denounced  the  false 
Pharisees.  His  followers  have  taken  up  this  con- 
demnation and  supposed  it  to  apply  to  all  Pharisees — 
forgetting  that  he  himself  was  a  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees. 
He  denounced  those  Pharisees  who  were  hypocritical, 
just  as  a  conscientious  democrat  would  denounce  bad 
Democrats,  or  a  conscientious  Republican  would  de- 
nounce bad  Republicans.  Just  as  a  Christian  minister 
would  rebuke  Christian  hypocrites  or  a  Jewish  minister 
Jewish  hypocrites 

The  whole  burden  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus  was 
against. the  rich  political  party  in  power — who  were  the 
Sadducees.  He  threw  in  his  lot  with  the  masses,  the  poor, 
oppressed  those  who  intensely  believed  in  the  ''kingdom 
of  God — "  they  were  the  Pharisees  !  The  Sadducees 
therefore  died  out  with  the  fall  of  the  nation,  with  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  as  a  political  power — but  the 
Pharisees  survived  as  the  only  Jews,  We  are  the  descen- 
dants of  the  Pharisees  to-day! 


But  just  because  Jesus  of  Nazareth  denounced  the 
false  Pharisees,  a  blind  obstinacy  has  persisted  in  believ- 
ing th:it  the  condemnation  applied  to  all  Pharisees. 
Henceforward  Pharisees  were  to  be  known  as  a  race  of 
hypocrites — form-worshipers,  observers  of  ceremonies 
and  ignorers  of  spirit.  To-day  Pharisee  means  a  pious 
fraud,  one  who  uses  the  cloak  of  religion  to  be  success- 
ful in  evil.  Turn  to  Webster  to-day  and  you  will  find 
Phariseism  defined  ashypocricy  in  religion.  Such  I  fear, 
it  always  will  mean.  For  unlike  the  Sophists — the  Phari- 
sees have  not  even  aGrote  to  defend  them. 

It  has  alas  been  the  lot  of  our  race  to  be  the  victims  of 
more  popular  errors  than  any  other  people.  We  have 
been  the  great  misunderstood  class  of  history.  Among 
the  excuses  offered  by  the  Gentile  for  the  persecution  of 
the  Jews,  the  most  familiar  was  that  they  always  stole  a 
Christian  child,  killed  it  and  used  its  blood  to  make  their 
Passover  cakes.  The  innocent  Jews  humbly  denied  the 
slander.  But  they  were  not  believed  and  many  were 
butchered  each  Easter,  because  of  this  fancied  crime. 

At  times,  some  inhuman  monsters  would  deliberately 
slay  a  Christian,  throw  the  body  into  the  Jewish  quarter 
and  then  raise  the  cry  that  the  Jews  had  killed  a  Chris- 
tian child.  But  when  in  every  instance  the  truth  was 
finally  disclosed,  always  after  the  massacre  and  plunder 
of  the  Jews,  it  might  be  presumed  that  the  error  would 
be  uprooted  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It  was  believed  strongly 
the  very  year  after  its  falsity  was  conclusively  proven, 
and  in  the  very  face  of  its  refutation, new  horrors  would 
be  committed. 

But  when  the  iQth  century  dawned — the  century  of 
enlightenment,  when  all  the  cobwebs  of  superstition  were 
swept  away  and  all  the  dark  corners  of  erroneous  belief 
were  exposed,  then  surely  this  absurd  and  wicked  slan- 
der would  pass  out  ?  Alas  no!  It  reappeared  every  year. 


10 


Do  you  remember  the  Terza-Esler  case  in  Austria,  some 
twelve  years  ago;  the  case  in  Corfu  that  occurred  within 
three  years,  or  that  recent  notorious  incident  deliberate- 
ly created  by  the  anti-Semites,  to  further  their  fanatic 
crusade  ? 

And,  to  think  of  it,  this  same  accusation  was  brought 
against  the  Christians  themselves  when  they  were  a  small 
sect  persecuted  by  the  Romans  !  They  were  said  to  use 
the  blood  of  infants  in  the  Eucharistic  meetings,  "feast- 
ing upon  a  new-born  child  concealed  within  a  vessel  of 
flour,  into  which  a  knife  was  plunged."  I  need  not  add 
that  this  accusation  against  the  Christians  was  just  as 
false  as  it  was  against  the  Jews. 

The  treasuries  of  the  European  cathedrals  are  full 
of  relics  of  wafers  and  hosts,  that  the  Jews  were  said 
to  have  pierced  and  that  by  special  miracle,  blood 
flowed  therefrom  in  consequence.  These  relics  are 
worshiped  annually  by  the  same  pilgrims  who  wor- 
ship the  "holy  coat"  of  the  Savior,  although  two  differ- 
ent cities  claim  to  possess  this  wonder-working  treasure. 

Week  after  week  misstatements,  and  misrepresenta- 
tions about  the  Jews  are  thundered  from  the  pulpits, 
deepening  the  false  impressions  about  us  year  by  year, 
infusing  all  literature  with  misinterpretations  about 
Judaism  and  the  Bible,  until  some  of  the  very  Hebrews 
themselves  have  come  to  believe  —  that  Judaism  was 
arrested  development,  that  the  picture  of  God  in  our 
Bible  is  stern  and  cruel,  that  no  spiritual  religion  was 
taught  till  Jesus  came,  that  all  virtues  and  all  good  take 
their  date  from  that  time.  We  point  to  the  stubborn 
facts  of  history,  we  point  to  the  prophets,  we  point  to 
rabbinical  ethics,  we  point  to  the  purity  of  Jewish  domes- 
tic life,  —  the  protest  is  of  no  use,  we  are  in  a  hopeless 
minority.  Alas  the  truth  of  the  Arab  quotation  "Long 
is  the  life  of  a  lie." 


ii 


What  a  dreadful  time  it  took  the  world  to  believe 
that  the  earth  was  a  sphere  and  not  flat  and  that  it 
moved  round  the  sun,  after  it  was  conclusively 
proven.  What  a  lot  of  people  had  to  be  persecuted 
before  they  would  accept  the  facts.  What  a  hard  fight 
rhe  truths  of  science  have  had  to  make  their  way.  How 
often  has  beneficent  information  been  postponed  by 
stupidity  for  hundreds  of  years. 

For  200  years  the  English  believed  Oliver  Cromwell  a 
hypocrite  instead  of  a  patriot;  for  1,000  years  Mahomet 
was  branded  an  imposter.  For  1.800  years  a  mortal  man 
has  been  worshiped  as  an  immortal  god  and  the  worship 
is  going  on  still.  During  the  Middle  Ages  the  Jew  was 
thought  to  be  a  four-footed  animal  and  the  Talmud  a 
living  man.  The  Catholic  church  still  bases  its  theolog- 
ical instruction  on  the  scholastic  philosophy  <>f  Thomas 
Aquinas,  ignoring  the  tact  that  this  philosophy  has 
been  exploded  ever  since  the  days  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon. 

Yes  !  errors  live  long  and  die  hard.  When  we  think 
we  have  reached  truth  at  last — we  find  that  the  fair 
picture  was  but  the  mirage  of  the  desert.  Even  the  mis- 
takes that  have  been  exposed  are  still  crystalized  in 
language. 

Half  the  world  to-day  is  holding  fast  to  the  errors 
that  the  other  half  has  outgrown.  There  are  millions 
to  day  who  refuse  to  be  convinced,  who  persistently 
deny  the  self-evident.  Falsehood  has  among  its  allies 
prejudice,  ignorance  and  indifference,  and  it  will  be  a 
hard  fight  to  lay  the  monster  low. 

The  Persian  legend  hath  it  that  Ahriman,  spirit  of 
darkness  and  falsehood,  is  perpetually  struggling  with 
Armuzo,-spirit  of  light  and  truth.  Thai  struggle  ha?  been 
going  on  as  long  as  man  has  been  upon  the  earth.  When 
will  the  end  be?  When  will  truth  live  without  a  rival - 
when  will  the  epitaph  of  error  be  written?. 


SENTIMENT  AND  LAW. 


Sentiment  and  Law. 


Reform  Judaism  is  in  no  sense  a  completed  institution, 
although  it  has  passed  its  experimental  stage.  Nor  does 
it  represent  one  standpoint;  it  includes  many  different 
theories  and  varying  forms.  It  has  already  three  divi- 
sions: Conservatives,  Progressives,  Radicals.  Radicals 
and  Conservatives  now  stand  as  far  apart  as  did  the 
Orthodox  and  the  Reform,  in  the  first  stages  of  the  latter. 
To  say.  then,  that  one  is  a  Reform  Jew  does  not  define 
his  attitude  toward  Judaism.  And  even  these  divisions 
are  not  sharply  divided  by  clear  cut  lines,  but  they  blend 
into  one  another. 

The  Reform  school  are  still  making  changes  from  time 
to  time  in  ritual  and  in  custom.  They  are  trying  many 
things.  They  are  not  yet  satisfied.  I  know  I  am  not- 
I  see  errors  in  Reform  as  well  as  in  Orthodoxy,  and  will 
impartially  reveal  both. 

Radicalism  has  made  the  mistake  of  changing  too 
much  and  changing  too  quickly.  In  its  eagerness  to 
adapt  itself  to  modern  lines  of  thought  and  to  conform 
as  far  as  possible  to  Western  surroundings,  it  has  for- 
gotten the  value  of  individuality.  It  is  quite  as  important 
that  our  mode  of  worship  should  be  distinct  from  that 
of  our  neighbors,  as  that  it  should  be  like,  that  of  our 
neighbors.  It  should  be  like  theirs — because  we  have 
many  ideas  in  common;  it  should  be  distinct — because 
we  hold  some  vital  ideas  that  are  not  shared  with  us. 
For  those  ideas  we  stand,  and  if  we  love  them  \ve  will 
not  mind  standing  alone.  Then  we  will  even  welcome 
any  distinctive  feature,  particularly  if  it  typifies  one  of 
those  ideas.  We  are  forgetting  that  \\\  this  world  of  the 
commonplace  and  the  prosaic,  where  each  person  is  much 
like  the  next;  distinction  in  the  good  sense  is  a  great 


thing  worth  even  suffering  persecution  for.  When  \ve 
look  back  on  the  past  and  compare  our  people  \viththeir 
immoral  surroundings,  we  glory  in  their  distinction 
among  the  nations.  Young  people,  impetuous  and 
enthusiastic,  often  pass  through  a  radical  stage  in  which 
they  would  fain  sweep  away  all  forms  and  all  differences 
and  cry  heroically  for  the  spirit  and  the  ideal.  As  we 
grow  older  and  can  think  more  calmly  and  soberly,  \ve 
find  out  how  impossible  it  is  always  to  keep  our  souls 
turned  to  that  high  pitch,  and  how  helpful  suggestive 
ceremonial  is.  Age  teaches  the  value  of  association. 

The  impatient  youth  asks,  "  Why  need  we  read  the 
'Bible  from  that  unprinted  parchment  scroll  and  in  un- 
punctuated  Hebrew,  too;  why  not  read  it  from  a  plain 
paper  book  printed  and  in  the  vernacular?"  A  scroll  is 
the  form  in  which  books  were  made  in  the  days  of  our 
ancient  ancestors,  and  skin  was  the  usual  material.  The 
Hebrew  in  which  it  is  written  was  the  language  of  Israel 
while  it  was  yet  an  independent  nation.  It  is  unpunctu- 
ated,  for  points  and  stops  are  modern  innovations,  almost 
as  modern  as  printing.  The  Hebrew  scroll  is  then  a 
memorial  of  antiquity,  one  of  the  links  that  bind  us  to 
the  past.  It  calls  up  a  host  of  suggestions:  that  we  Jews 
ourselves  are,  as  it  were,  a  link  between  past  and  present, 
between  Orient  and  Occident,  between  the  old  and  the 
new;  that  the  forms  of  books,  of  writings  or  of  tongues 
may  change  from  age  to  age,  but  that  there  are  certain 
Divine  truths  and  moral  principles  that  are  the  same 
throughout  all  ages;  they  are  the  eternal  verities,  and 
those  truths  are  written  in  that  parchment  scroll,  and 
were  first  taught  in  the  Hebrew  language. 

Our  praver-books,  indeed,  are  made  as  books  of  to-day, 
and  to  a  varying  extent  written  in  the  language  of  to- 
day, and  the  service  is  read  from  them,  except  one  small 
portion  read  from  the  scroll,  in  response  to  a  sentiment 


/rs 

that  we  all  love  and  introduce  everywhere— of  preserving 
among  our  brand  new  possessions  little  bits  of  the  old- 
cherished  relics  of  bygone  days,  sweet  reminders  of  an 
almost  forgotten  past.  And  if  the  relics  belong  to  one's 
own  race,  one's  own  family,  how  much  more  highly  are 
they  prized.  Reverence  for  the  past  is  despised  only 
by  Philistines  and  Vandals. 

We  have  only  to  take  care  that  regard  for  the  old 
assists  and  does  not  interfere  with  duties  demanded  by 
our  own  times;  it  should  enhance  them  and  show  them 
in  a  new  light.  The  true  uses  of  ancient  rites  are  brought 
out  when  they  are  fittingly  subordinated  to  the  needs  of 
the  hour,  they  must  not  in  the  slightest  degree  ignore 
them. 

The  past  is  the  foundation  on  which  the  structure  of 
the  present  rests;  yet  we  do  live  in  foundations  but  on 
them. 

Ceremonies  are  matters  of  sentiment.  I  make  against 
Orthodoxy  the  charge  that  it  has  taken  all  the  poetry 
out  of  the  ceremonies  by  making  them  laws  And  so  as 
hard,  dry,  unattractive  forms  Reform  Judaism  has  largely 
rejected  them  or  at  least  permitted  them  to  fall  into 
decay.  But  it  was  and  is  the  duty  of  Reform  not  to 
renounce  the  old  observances,  but  to  idealize  them.  It 
may  have  done  that  here  and  there,  but  riot  sufficiently. 
Reform  has  contented  itself  chiefly  with  the  negative 
work  of  removing  abuses  It  has  pulled  down  roppl'.ng 
structures — it  has  cleared  the  ground.  It  has  not  yet 
taken  up  the  trowel.  The  harder  task,  the  synthetic 
work  of  modern  Judaism — the  upbuilding  work  has 
hardly  begun. 

Orthodoxy  has  killed  the  sentiment  in  our  ceremonies 
by  legalizing  them,  and  has  robbed  them  of  their  beauty 
by  a  literal,  crude,  prosaic  interpretation.  Let  me  illus- 
trate. An  old  teaching  of  Judaism  is  that  simplicity 


should  prevail  in  all  the  mournful  details  of  burial. 
That  is  a  fine  idea.  In  death  we  are  all  equal.  The 
distinctions  of  wealth  and  poverty,  of  honor  and  obscu- 
rity, that  divide  us  in  life,  end  at  the  grave.  To  be  sim- 
ple is  to  return  to  our  early  condition,  and  death  is  a 
return  to  the  source  whence  we  came.  In  the  solemn 
presence  of  death,  vanity,  pomp,  display,  seem  hollow 
mockery  Elaborate  decoration  irritates  the  bereaved, 
quiet  simplicity  soothes  them.  But  when  Orthodoxy 
stupidly  supposes  that  simplicity  means  rudeness  and 
roughness,  its  common  pine  box,  its  repulsive  shroud, 
the  very  name  of  which  makes  us  shiver,  its  black  cloth 
often  unclean  because  used  on  many  occasions,  and  its 
sheeted  mirrors,  destroy  the  original  idea.  Our  feelings 
are  outraged  by  gross,  uncouth  details,  that  tend  to 
make  death,  sad  in  itself,  ever  so  much  more  shocking. 

But  on  the  other' hand,  because  the  idea  of  simplicity 
has  been  abused,  should  Reform  Judaism  neglect  it  alto- 
gether, and  forgetting  entirely  its  old  teaching,  copy  in 
every  detail  the  elaborate  decorations  of  the  Gentiles  ? 
I  say  it  is  our  opportunity  as  Reform  Jews  to  return  to 
the  old  simplicity  taught  by  our  ancestors.  I  mean  sim. 
plicity  in  the  spirit,  not  to  define  its  precise  limits  within 
rigid  legal  formulas,  and  not  harshly  to  refuse,  as  an 
orthodox  Rabbi  does  refuse,  to  officiate  unless  certain 
ceremonial  details,  indicating  the  letter  but  not  the  spirit 
of  simplicity,  are  complied  with. 

Reform  Judaism  had  no  right  to  make  any  change  for 
change's  sake.  What  purpose,  pray,  was  served  by  the 
abolition  of  the  Chuppah,  the  marriage  canopy,  so  com- 
pletely identified  wiih  the  ceremony  as  actually  to  be 
used  as  a  synonym  for  it?  What  advance  idea  was  implied 
in  its  abandonment  ?  Surely  we  must  have  a  reason  for 
our  changes  if  we  wish  those  changes  to  be  respected. 
The  Chuppah  is  another  beautiful  sentiment.  It  typifies 


the  home  of  the  bridegroom,  he  takes  his  bride  under 
the  protection  of  his  roof.  It  is  an  objeci  lesson  in  the 
husband's  duty  to  his  wife  to  shield  her  from  the  world, 
to  nourish  and  to  cherish  her  in  the  home  they  will 
build  together,  and  which  her  presence  is  needed  to 
complete. 

A^ain,  while  asking  you  to  return  to  that  good  old 
custom,  I  say  don't  spoil  it  by  rigid  interpretation.  A 
canopy  of  flowers  or  leaves  preserves  the  same  idea  Div- 
ing it  perhaps  a  final  poetic  touch. 

A  further  instance.  It  was  customary  to  build  the 
synagogue  to \vard  the  Kast,  and  to  pray  facing  in  that 
direction.  A  feeling  of  affection  led  our  fathers  to  look 
toward  their  old  home,  where  their  inspired  teachers 
lived  and  taught,  towards  Zion  whence  came  the  Law 
and  where  their  much  beloved  Temple  had  once  stood- 
I  think  we  ought  to  try  to  maintain  this  idea  wherever 
we  can,  but  of  course  not  to  permit  it  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  important  principles  and  living  issues.  Therefore  I 
cannot  but  regret  the  action  taken  by  the  Chief  Rabbi  of 
England,  who  refused  to  sanction  the  building  of  a  syna- 
gogue unless  it  faced  the  East.  He  stifled  the  sentiment 
of  religion  through  the  legalism  of  the  Slvulchan  Aruch. 
The  Shulchan  Aruch  cannot  decide  these  things  for  us, 
any  more  than  it  can  legislate  our  feelings.  Law  kills 
feeling.  Customs  grow  naturally,  taking  root  in  our 
deepest  need, — force  them  artificially  and  they  will  wither- 

Our  Rabbins  made  the  mistake  of  reducing  all  religion 
to  law,  attempting  to  meet  by  laws  every  minute  religious 
duty.  No  opportunity  was  given  for  spontaneous  reli- 
gious outburst,  for  the  free  play  of  emotion,  for  obeying 
the  promptings  of  the  heart,  for  personal  prayer.  Ir 
was  all  anticipated  in  cut  and  dried  laws.  Every 
bowing,  every  tremor,  every  beating  of  the  breast 
was  marked  out  in  advance  to  be  applied  to  speci- 


fie  passages.  Special  words  had  to  be  fitted  into  certain 
places  in  the  prayers  for  special  occasions,  as  thong  a 
prayer  were  an  algebraic  formula.  Even  the  mourner 
was  not  left  in  peace  but  was  hedged  in  with  a  whole 
host  of  laws,  as  to  the  nature  of  the  seat  on  which  he 
should  grieve,  and  the  kind  of  rent  that  should  be  made 
in  his  garment,  when  it  should  be  sewn  up,  either  fine 
drawn  or  roughly  stitched,  according  to  the  degree  of 
relationship.  Judaism  was  a  voluminous  and  complica- 
ted code.  And  since  it  was  impossible  for  everybody  to 
master  all  these  laws,  the  chief  duty  of  the  Rabbi  was  to 
study  the  ponderous  volumes  of  intricate  law  day  and 
night,  in  order  to  be  able  to  answer  the  ceremonial 
questions  of  the  people — posken  hashaaloth,  as  it  was 
technically  called.  The  Rabbi  was  in  fact  a  religious 
lawyer. 

But  from  the  one  extreme  of  formulating  a  specified 
benediction  for  every  minute  detail  of  life,  we  have  no 
right  to  go  to  the  other  extreme  of  completely  secular- 
izing all  our  experience,  of  banishing  the  Berachoth  alto- 
gether, and  with  them  the  thought  of  God  in  daily  life, 
and  the  association  of  religion  with  the  duties  of  home. 
We  may  have  objected  to  the  old  liturgy  as  being  much 
too  long,  but  it  did  not  justify  the  reaction  of  abandon- 
ing the  morning  prayers,  the  grace  after  meals  and  the 
Passover  Seder. 

I  do  not  wish  to  imply  that  this  omission  has  been  in 
any  sense  sanctioned  by  Reform,  except  that  in  not  cen- 
suring the  neglect,  it  h:is  to  that  extent  encouraged  it. 
Some  persons  are  unfortunately  under  the  impression 
that  the  lighting  of  Sabbath  Lights,  the  blessing  of  the 
children,  the  Kiddush,  and  many  of  those  beautiful  cere- 
monies of  Judaism  that  we  can  never  afford  to  lose,  have 
been  abolished  by  Reform  Judaism.  It  is  time  that  we 
laid  insistence  upon  the  fact  that  such  is  not  the  case,  by 


dwelling  upon  them  in  the  pulpit,  by  teaching  them  in 
the  Sunday-schools,  by  practicing  them  in  the  homes. 
There  are  a  good  many  ways  of  killing  a  man  besides 
hanging  him;  there  are  a  good  many  ways  of  making  a 
ceremony  a  dead  letter  besides  officially  abrogating  it  — 
one  is,  by  saying  nothing  about  it. 

It  is  the  mission  of  Reform  Judaism  to  spiritualize 
Judaism  just  where  Orthodoxy  has  materialized  it.  The 
exaggerated  importance  given  to  the  thousand  and  one 
laws  about  Kosher  and  Trifa  has  stood  in  the  way  of 
great  principles.  The  perpetual  intrusion  of  petty  die- 
tary injunctions  has  justified  the  criticism  that  ours  was 
a  "kitchen  religion."  In  this  city,  that  monstrous  organ- 
ization and  its  wonderful  equipment  simply  to  see  that 
every  ecclesiastical  detail  with  regard  to  kosher  meat  is 
complied  with,  if  solely  directed  to  moral  elevation  would 
accomplish  vast  results.  It  is  sad  to  tiiink  that  a  so-called 
Chief  Rabbi  was  imported  from  Europe  almost  wholly  to 
supervise  its  supply,  this  being  considered  the  greatest 
religious  need.  Dietary  laws  are  important  for  the  pre- 
servation of  health,  but  they  do  not  belong  to  the  sphere 
of  the  synagogue.  A  good  many  of  us  have  to  practice 
sundry  dietary  restrictions  not  found  in  the  Mosaic  code, 
as  to  wines,  pastry,  cheese,  etc.  These  restrictions  are 
identically  parallel  with  those  found  in  Leviticus,  and 
yet  we  never  think  of  associating  them  with  religion,  with 
man's  aspiration  towards  God. 

Instead  of  abolishing  an  unaesthetic  ceremony,  Reform 
Judaism  should  so  modify  it  as  to  bring  out  the  original 
religious  purpose  obscured  perhaps  under  an  unfortunate 
form.  This  it  has  already  done  for  the  Barmitzvah  in 
its  broadened  Confirmation  and  for  the  Mourners'  Kad- 
dish — the  two  strongholds  of  modern  Judaism. 

Reform  Judaism  should  encourage  constructive^  not 
destructive  changes.  For  example,  it  should  change 


Chanuka  from  a  minor  to  a  Great  Festival,  so  that  our 
children  would  look  forward  to  it  with  as  much  eager- 
ness as  they  now,  alas,  anticipate  Christmas.  The  Ten 
Penitential  Days  between  New  Year  and  Atonement 
should  be  recognized  in  some  form.  The  Lulav  and 
Esrog  on  Sukkoth  should  be  supplemented  by  fruits  of 
our  own  country,  which  should  all  be  donations  from 
the  congregations  and  should  afterwards  be  distributed 
among  the  poor.  On  Shevuoth,  there  should  be  flowers 
in  the  home  as  well  as  in  the  Temple.  We  must  not 
confine  the  ceremonies  of  religion  to  the  Temple.  If 
there  be  no  religious  observance  in  the  home,  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Temple  is  meagre  indeed. 

Again,  when  we  touch  the  institutions  of  Judaism  we 
must  not  forget  that  we  stand  on  holy  ground.  A  con- 
gregation is  not  a  religious  unity,  complete  in  itself,  and 
responsible  only  to  itself.  It  is  but  part  of  a  larger  whole 
and  it  must  be  willing  at  times  to  sink  its  individuality 
for  the  good  of  that  larger  whole.  It  owes  duties  to 
other  congregations— in  fact  to  the  whole  community  of 
Israel.  In  making  ritual,  it  has  not  fulfilled  its  obliga- 
tion by  merely  considering  the  wants  of  its  members  — it 
must  consider  the  sentiment  of  all  its  brethren.  If  each 
individual  Rabbi  is  considered  as  sufficient  authority  for 
all  ceremonial  changes,  and  each  congregation  becomes 
a  law  unto  itself,  then  Judaism  will  split  up  into  as  many 
sects  as  it  has  congregations. 

There  is  in  fact  not  enough  unity  amongst  us.  There  is 
lacking  religious  fellowship.  We  unite  for  charity  but 
not  for  worship.  Within  the  one  city,  congregations 
become  rivals,  trying-  to  outstrip  each  other  by  the  offer 
of  "attractions  and  novelties"  instead  of  lovingly  help- 
ing each  other  as  religious  bodies  should.  In  this  way 
ritual  changes  are  not  always  made  on  their  merits,  nor 
as  the  result  of  the  highest  conviction,  but  often  on  the 


ground  of  expediency,  because  they  would  be  popular  and 
would  draw.  In  railing  against  the  undoubted  abuses  of 
Orthodoxy,  Reform  Judaism  must  not  forget  that  it  has 
abuses  of  its  own,  abuses  that  we  cannot  shift  to  the 
shoulders  of  past  ancestors.  We  have  been  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry  to  realize  religious  ideals,  forgetting  Nature's 
lesson  that  slow  organic  growth  always  precedes  the  best 
and  the  most  lasting  results.  I  believe  in  Reform  Juda- 
ism with  heart  and  soul,  and  still  I  acknowledge  that  our 
hardest  work  is  yet  to  be  done. 


GAMBLING. 


Gambling. 


In  Mishna  Sanhedrin  we  are  given  a  list  of  classes  of 
people  whose  evidence  would  not  be  taken  in  courts  of 
justice  Among  these  we  find  Metsachek  bekubyah — dice 
players, and  Mafrichai  Yonem — trainers  of  doves  for  racing 
purposes.  Sometimes  the  indirect  information  inferred 
from  an  old  quotation  is  more  valuable  than  the  knowl- 
edge directly  given.  And  this  old  Talmudic  law  teaches 
us  first,  how  ancient  gambling  is,  and  secondly  how  early 
it  became  a  demoralizing  agency,  so  that  the  words  of 
those  engaged  in  it  could  not  be  trusted. 

It  is  a  mournful  reflection  to  discover  how  ancient 
every  kind  of  evil  is  ;  the  inventive  genius  of  man  seemed 
to  develop  quite  soon  enough  to  devise  all  sorts  of  clever 
contrivances  to  pander  to  the  baser  passions,  as  ancient 
ruins  abundantly  testify.  The  sword  was  invented  be- 
fore the  plough,  and  while  devilishly  ingenious  tortures 
of  most  elaborate  completeness  existed  in  abundance, 
even  before  the  days  of  the  Inquisition,  we  have  had  to 
wait  almost  till  the  ipth  century  for  labor-saving 
machinery  and  sanitary  science. 

As  early  as  the  days  of  the  Judges,  we  find  Samson 
propounding  a  riddle  that  was  really  a  wager,  to  his 
friends,  promising  30  changes  of  raiment  if  they  guessed 
it  and  exacting  the  same  if  they  could  not.  References 
to  a  race  are  found  in  the  igth  Psalm  and  in  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes.  While  as  far  back  as  we  can  go  in  history, 
we  will  always  find  a  sphinx  legend  in  some  form,  where 
the  world  is  at  the  feet  of  him  who  can  guess  the  riddle, 
while  he  who  fails  is  doomed. 

Human  nature  revels  in  the  mysterious— even  prefer- 
ring an  element  of  uncertainty  in  all  its  calculations, 


4 


which  it  loves  to  trust  to  blind  accident.  In  childhood, 
while  the  dark  and  the  unknown  terrifies,  it  at  the 
same  time  fascinates.  It  gives  opportunity  for  the  piny 
of  imagination. 

In  our  earliest  years, when  laws  of  nature  are  but  dimly 
understood,  we  believe  more  in  chance  luck  than  in 
cause  and  effect.  But  this  belief  is  by  no  means  confined 
to  childhood.  An  old  superstition  has  encouraged  the 
belief  that  justice  is  best  obtained  by  lot,  and  in  olden 
times  men  preferred  to  trust  to  its  decision  rather  than 
to  fallible  human  reason;  they  were  fully  convinced 
that  if  they  devised  an  ordeal  of  formality  to  decide  be- 
tween the  true  and.  the  false,  the  gods  would  step  in, 
turning  the  scale  for  innocence.  And  so  the  wager,  the 
ordeal  of  fire,  the  trial  by  combat,  and  the  duel  were  at 
first  religious  institutions  regulated  by  the  law  of  the 
land.  Hence  the  absurdity  of  maintaining  the  duel 
to-day  to  decide  a  misunderstanding,  when  it  is  no  longer 
believed  that  supernatural  powers  will  defeat  the  guilty, 
but  that  by  the  laws  of  cause  and  effect,  regardless  of  the 
merits  of  the  fighters,  the  best  swordsman  or  the  best 
shot  will  probably  win  the  victory.  Still  superstitions 
always  survived  even  their  exposure,  and  many  a  young 
woman  will  prefer  to  decide  her  own  fate  by  the  throw 
of  a  coin  or  an  arbitrary  accident,  to  acting  according  to 
the  dictates  of  her  own  heart. 

But  although  many  gamblers  to-day  hold  many  super- 
stitions with  regard  to  play,  as  to  occurrence  of  figures 
and  taking  a  number  from  a  dream,  which  are  in  fact 
part  of  their  infatuation, — it  is  the  mad  love  for  the  daring 
excitement  at  gambling  and  its  luring  possibilities  re- 
gardless of  its  consequences  that  impels  them  to  give 
themselves  up  to  it  with  reckless  devotion. 

There  is  a  delicious  frenzy  in  hazarding  our  future 
and  even  our  lives  on  uncertainty,  in  staking  everything 


on  the  throw  of  a  die,  that  masters  all  other  hu  man 
passions.  Even  the  sirens  of  drink,  of  lust,  of  power, 
cannot  entice  the  gambler  from  his  worship  of  the  god 
of  chance.  And  the  unfortunate  disease  grows  on  what 
it's  fed. 

You  should  see  those  pale  intense  faces,  with  all  human 
softness  gone  from  them,  as  I  saw  them  gathered  around 
the  gaming  table  at  Ostend,  breathlessly  watching  the 
roll  of  the  ball,  until  it  gradually  reached  a  stand-still  at 
a  particular  number  ;  brutally  oblivious  of  the  outside 
work!  and  its  concerns.  Sometimes  the  degradation  is 
so  complete  as  to  make  the  hopelessly  confirmed  gambler 
reckless  of  honor,  reputation,  of  his  very  soul. 

Tiie  milder,  healthful  exhilaration  of  innocent  pleas- 
ures and  mirthful  pastimes  and  the  sober  occupation  of 
business  fails  to  satisfy  the  man  who  has  learned  to  keep 
his  pulses  at  fever  heat.  Accustomed  to  stake  a  year's  in- 
come in  one  hour  a*,  the  Exchange  or  at  the  iable,he  finds 
the  slow  and  gradual  profits  of  steady  and  legitimate 
industry  distasteful.  He  has  lost  the  moral  will-power 
that  can  patiently  submit  to  the  discipline  of  continous 
occupation.  Even  the  young  man  who  has  but  once 
tasted  tne  intoxication  of  the  betting  fields  and  wins  $100 
on  a  holiday  afternoon  feels  discontented  to  have  to 
come  back  to  $10  a  week  for  ten  hours  a  day,  and  hears 
the  delusive  whisper,  whether  in  addition  to  the  pleasure, 
the  excitement,  and  the  jolly  companions  of  the  race- 
track, it  would  not  pay  occasionally  to  neglect  his  duties 
on  some  excuse  and  make  a  comfortable  sum.  A  heavy 
loss  may  be  his  salvation,  may  awaken  nim  to  his  folly 
and  cure  him  in  time.  Or  it  may  have  the  contrary 
effect,  urging  him  to  borrow  in  order  to  try  again  to 
refill  his  own  pockets  and  repay  the  debt.  A  position  of 
trust  may  afford  the  opportunity  to  take,  temporarily  of 
course,  money  that  is  not  his,  which  he  may  win  back 


and  return,  but  which  he  may  lose,  and  in  very  fright 
may  borrow  more  if  only  perhaps  to  win  and  repay  it. 
Need  I  go  any  further  ?  You  may  read  the  sequel  almost 
any  day  of  the  week  in  almost  any  of  the  newspapers. 

Gambling  is  evil  in  itself,  regardless  of  such  unfortu- 
nate consequences,  that  do  not  always  follow.  It  con- 
tributes nothing  to  the  world's  substance,  or  to  its  good 
inanvform.  When  men  stand  around  the  gambling 
tables  at  Monte  Carlo,  millions  may  change  hands,  but 
not  an  iota  has  been  added  to  the  world's  wealth.  What 
one  gains  another  loses.  In  legitimate  labor  the  farmer 
adds  to  the  world's  products,  while  maintaining  himself, 
the  merchant  who  transports  it  makes  a  profit  and  so 
does  the  retail  dealer  ;  the  consumer  is  certainly  benefited 
by  having  the  commodity  gathered  from  the  distance, 
brought  to  him  for  his  consumption, through  the  machin- 
ery of  trade.  All  help  and  all  are  helped — none  need 
be  losers.  The  teacher,  lawyer,  doctor,  confer  benefits, 
all  in  their  way,,  and  help  their  kind.  Even  the  enter- 
tainer, if  the  amusement  he  offers  be  harmless  and  relax- 
ing, is  of  use  in  our  social  economy.  For  we  need 
recreation  to  re-create  us,  to  fit  us  for  continued  labor. 
Gambling  does  not  even  effect  this — it  exhausts  the 
energies  ;  it  saps  the  vitality,  it  is  more  wearing  on  the 
physical  system  than  life's  troubles.  While  morally  it 
dries  up  the  feelings  and  even  the  natural  affections,  it 
destroys  the  scruples  of  conscience  it  changes  a  man 
into  a  bird  of  prey  and  his  fellow-creatures  become  his 
victims. 

Were  not  the  sages  of  the  Sanhedrin  right  in  outlaw- 
ing the  evidence  of  a  gambler?  Were  not  the  Pharisees 
right  in  mistrusting  the  Greek  culture  since  in  the  reign 
of  Herod  it  introduced  dice-playing  to  the  Israelites,  as 
the  Greek  word  kubia  indicates  ?  Rab  Ilai  wished  to 
make  a  distinction  in  that  law  that  refused  the  evidence 


of  gamblers,  between  those  who  played  for  pleasure  and 
those  who  played  for  gain.  And  although  the  distinction 
was  not  accepted,  still  it  is  obvious  there  are  some  im- 
portant differences.  A  professional  gambler  is  no  gam- 
bler at  all — he  thrives  on  the  mania  for  play  of  other 
people.  It  is  no  question  of  risk  or  uncertainty  with 
him.  For  even  if  his  cards  are  not  marked,  his  dice  not 
loaded  and  he  uses  no  confederate,  he  has  mastered  by 
long  study  the  intricacies  of  the  game,  and  those  who 
play  with  him  are  no  match  for  his  superior  skill.  He 
is  no  gambler — he  rather  belongs  to  the  sharpers  and 
swindlers  and  should  be  dealt  with  by  the  law  as  any 
other  rogue.  On  Wall  street  there  is  an  important  differ- 
ence between  men  of  the  type  of  Fisk  and  Gould,  Ives 
and  McLeod  of  Reading  notoiiety,and  men  like  Vander- 
bilt  and  Pierrepont  Morgan,  although  a  superficial  pub- 
lic may  not  always  discriminate.  There  is  finally  a  dis- 
tinction between  those  who  spend  much  of  their  time  at 
the  race  tracks  and  the  gambling  clubs,  and  those  who 
play  in  the  evening  once  or  twice  a  week,  with  just 
enough  monev  at  risk  to  give  the  game  zest,  but  not 
enough  to  seriously  involve  themselves  to  affect  their 
business  or  their  health. 

Yet  it  is  a  question  not  easy  to  answer  where  card- 
playing  as  pure  recreation  ceases,  and  where  card-play- 
ing as  gambling  begins.  It  does  not  depend  upon  the 
amount,  for  what  would  be  an  embarrassing  sum  for  a 
young  clerk  would  be  nothing  for  a  retired  merchant. 
Or  fortunes  being  equal,  what  would  be  felt  as  small  by 
the  extravagant  may  be  considered  large  by  the  par- 
simonious. It  depends  upon  the  emotions.  If  the 
interest  in  the  amount  involved,  however  small  it  may 
be,  is  greater  than  the  interest  in  the  game  itself,  then  it 
is  gambling.  There  are  some  games  so  entirely  devoid 
of  thought  or  skill  and  so  purely  dependent  on  chance, 


that  they  nearly  always  run  to  gambling.  There  are 
games  of  cards  that  demand  such  mental  alertness  as  to 
be  of  absorbing  interest  in  themselves  regardless  of  the 
stake  involved.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  legitimate  amuse- 
ment should  be  sufficient  in  itself  for  pleasant  recrea- 
tion without  having  to  borrow  interest  bv  involving  loss 
and  gain. 

But  card-playing  in  its  most  innocent  form  does 
certainly  not  take  rank  amongst  the  highest  and  most 
refined  forms  of  pleasure.  It  does  not  help  towards 
cultivation  as  do  so  many  amusements:  it  often  unfits 
for  other  and  better  enjoyments.  We  mav  judge  people 
bv  their  recreations  better  than  by  their  occupations. 
When  I  learn  of  ladies  who,  day  after  day,  spend  after- 
noons playing  poker  at  each  other's  houses,  when  I  learn 
of  men  doing  the  sama  nightly — not  even  excluding  the 
Sabbath  eve,  I  cannot  but  reeret  the  pity  of  it.  I  cannot 
but  feel,  that  carried  to  that  extent,  it  is.  debasing.  I 
think  that  such  an  example  is  most  unfortunate  for  our 
Gentile  neighbors  and  for  our  own  children.  In  the 
latter,  it  may  awaken  a  distaste  for  reading  at  an  age 
when  reading  is  most  important  for  mind  culture  and 
the  formation  of  character. 

This  is  an  old  evil  in  Israel;  they  have  always  seemed 
to  drift  toward  speculation.  Thev  may  even  have  been 
among  the  first  to  bring  cards  to  Europe  from  the  East. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  it  had  become  such  a  vice,  I  learn 
from  some  interesting  data  published  on  the  question, 
that  in  1628,  the  Rabbis  of  Venice  published  a  decree  of 
excommunication  against  those  members  of  the  con- 
gregation played  cards.  Every  Jewish  devotional  book 
published  at  the  time  was  sure  to  contain  a  tirade  against 
cards.  It  always  expressed  the  chief  warning  of  fathers 
to  sons.  And  many  weak-willed  souls  fearing  its  evils 
actually  signed  pledges  not  to  touch  cards,  just  as  people 


to-day  sign  pledges  not  to  touch  liquor.  We  know  that 
this  love  of  speculation  tempts  even  the  poor  Jews  in  all 
quarters  of  Europe,  to  spare  a  little  from  hard-earned 
wages,  to  take  a  fraction  of  a  ticket  in  a  Dutch  lottery. 

To-day,  let  us  confess  it,  we  have  earned  the  unenvi- 
able distinction  of  being  particularly  prone  to  gambling 
in  our  clubs,  at  hotels  and  in  our  homes.  Many  of  the 
evils  of  Monte  Carlo  have  been  introduced  at  Long 
Branch  and  Saratoga.  This  is  most  sad  when  found  as 
it  so  frequently  is  among  our  young  men,  and  that  is  the 
reason  why  you  older  people  who  know  what  responsi- 
bility is,  who  do  not  as  a  rule  gamble  at  cards,  but  who 
play  innocently,  and  who  have  earned  the  right  to  larger 
leisure  and  greater  indulgence,  should  be  so  very  careful 
as  to  the  example  you  are  setting.  There  is  a  profound 
maxim  in  the  Rabbinical  Code,  which  says,  it  is  not 
sufficient  not  to  do  wrong  but  for  the  good  of  example, 
we  must  even  refrain  from  that  which  may  appear  to  be 
wrong.  Be  very  careful  that  your  example  of  too  fre- 
quent though  harmless  card-playing  may  not  be  mis- 
understood by  the  younger  people  as  a  defence  of  card- 
playing  in  any  form;  and — just  because  youth  will  not 
discriminate— lest  it  serve  as  excuse  for  them  to  cross  that 
narrow  border  line  that  changes  an  innocent  pastime 
into  a  guilty  passion.  Once  the  fatal  poison  to  gamble 
has  infected  the  moral  system  it  will  seek  other  methods 
of  gratifying  it.  If  we  wish  to  bet  we  can  bet  about 
anything,  from  a  Presidential  election  to  a  walking 
match.  Even  a  legitimate  business  can  venture  so  far 
in  daring  speculation  as  to  be  little  less  than  a  gambling 
concern,  in  disguise.  Such  Jewish  convicts  as  we  have 
are  mostly  young  Americans  between  the  ages  of  16  and 
30  who  have  been  led  to  vice  and  crime  by  card-playing, 
horse-betting  and  "  sports  "  general ly. 

I  am  shocked  to  notice  how  completely  au  fait  the  boys 


are  with  all  the  slang  of  the  turf,  how  keenly  they  follow 
all  sporting  news,  and  that  they  indulge  in  betting  before 
they  are  out  of  school.  The  details  of  the  New  Orleans 
lottery  scheme,  kept  before  the  eyes  of  the  public  for  so 
long  could  not  but  have  had  injurious  effect.  There 
they  saw  public  officials — the  representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple—men holding  important  posts  of  responsibility, 
who  from  such  exalted  positions  were  naturally  looked 
up  to  as  examples,  for  the  young  generation  who  would 
succeed  them,  shamelessly  betray  their  public  trust  to 
legalise  a  gambling  institution  and  by  permitting  the 
State  to  accept  part  of  its  profits,  to  give  it  thereby 
moral  countenance.  A  State  much  nearer  to  us,  roused 
to  righteous  indignation,  was  but  yesterday  fighting  a 
similar  battle  against  its  own  leaders,  who  were  betray- 
ing the  interests  of  their  constituents  in  the  interests  of 
a  race-track.  When  such  causes  are  pleaded  in  high 
places,  humbler  people  may  well  ask  themselves,  what  is 
right  and  what  is  wrong. 

For  this  reason  I  feel  opposed  to  "  chances  "  at  Fairs 
for  charitable  and  religious  institutions,  even  though 
I  confess  to  have  taken  part  in  them,  and  aided  them  my- 
self. Anything  approaching  the  Jesuitical  principle  that 
the  end  justifies  the  means,  is  morally  pernicious.  No 
means  tha*:  are  bad  should  be  accepted  to  further  ends 
that  are  good,  because,  even  though  the  particular  end 
may  be  safely  effected,  a  loophole  has  been  made  in  the 
consciences  of  the  workers,  for  dangerous  sophistry  that 
may  in  some  other  emergency  tempt  them  to  resort  to 
all  sorts  of  questionable  methods  for  ends  that  may  easily 
be  considered  righteous;  for  to  provide  for  our  wives 
and  children  for  instance  is  a  righteous  end.  I  have  no 
hesitancy  in  saying  that  some  weak  natures  may  take 
refuge  behind  the  Church  Fair  as  offering  excuse  for 
attendance  at  gambling  dives.  In  any  event,  the  example 


20$ 
ii 

is  most  unfortunate  of  a  religious  institution,  resorting 
for  its  support  to  a  practice  to  condemn  which,  is  one  of 
the  reasons  of  its  existence.  The  pious  fraud  is  a  result  ot 
just  such  jugglery  with  moral  issues.  Let  us  not  venture 
too  near  the  ragged  edge  of  virtue,  but  keep  well  within 
its  boundaries. 

A  long  and  useful  experience  has  surely  taught  us  all 
that  the  right  way  is  always  the  best  way,  and  in  the 
end  the  shortest  way.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  learn- 
ing— nor  to  success — and  woe  to  those  who  are  waiting 
for  accident  or  fate  to  lift  them  suddenly  into  fortune 
that  their  own  energies  cannot  win  for  themselves.  I 
call  that  a  form  of  gambling  all  the  more  insidious 
because  unconscious.  The  old  gods  are  still  half  believed 
in,  and  like  the  ancient  Greeks,  some  thoughtless 
moderns  believe  that  the  hidden  fates  are  weaving  our 
destinies  as  they  spin  their  invisible  threads.  We  must 
give  up  these  old  delusions.  The  Fates  like  the  Muses 
are  but  the  poetic  figments  of  imagination — the  baseless 
fabric  of  a  dream.  Our  destinies  are  in  our  own  hands, 
and  we  must  weave  our  own  lives. 

There  is  no  such  power  as  Luck  in  the  economy  of 
God's  universe.  It  is  almost  idolatry  to  speak  of  it,  for 
every  evil  and  e^nery  good  can  be  traced  back  to  reason- 
able (guises.  Do  not  foolishly  depend  on  Wind  chance, 
but  trust  alone  )the  m^eriaVand  moral  forces  with  which 
our  Father  has  eadowecr  each  of  His  children  to  work 
out  their  own  salvatioX^ 


SIN  AND  DUTY. 


Sin  and  Duty. 


There  is  a  popular  delusion  that  religions  in  their 
codes  of  law  and  specified  precepts  cover  all  the  detailed 
duties  of  man  and  every  phase  of  sin.  Offences  against 
the  state  are  codified  within  a  certain  degree  of  complete- 
ness— but  not  the  offences  against  God.  The  only  tab- 
lets on  which  man  will  find  his  every  duty  written  and 
his  failings  recorded  are  the  tablets  of  his  heart.  They 
do  not  always  tell  the  same  behest,  but  like  dissolving 
views  change  for  each  occasion.  No  one  can  tell  you 
when  you  are  wrong,  so  well  as  you.  yourself.  It  is 
true  that  there  are  certain  fundamental  duties,  and  cer- 
tain fundamental  crimes  that  nearly  all  people  recognize 
— though  even  here  there  is  divergence.*  But  neither 
Judaism  nor  any  other  religion  in  their  books  of  Law 
can  specify  every  human  obligation;  that  would  be  im- 
possible. The  Ten  Commandments  give  a  few  cardinal 
duties,  so  does  the  i6th  Psalm,  so  does  Micah.  The 
Shulchan  Aruch  specifies  as  many  as  613  precepts,  but 
they  consist  mostly  of  details  of  ceremonial.  All  duty 
for  all  men  could  never  be  codified— it  belongs  to  the 
'nfinities;  nor  is  duty  the  same  for  all  men.  You  may 
stand  in  a  position  with  conflicting  calls  upon  you,  in 
which  precise  position  no  other  human  being  has  ever 
stood.  In  no  code  of  law  or  manual  of  ethics  will  you 
find  out  what  is  your  distinct  duty  in  this  instance- 


*  There  are  certain  kinds  of  murder  and  suicide  sanctioned  by 
barbaric  religions.  A  Thug  is  a  conscientious  strangler;  Suttee — 
compulsory  suicide  is  duty  for  an  Indian  widow;  sell-immolation 
under  the  Juggernaut  is  an  Oriental  form  of  piety.  Even  here  in 
the  United  S!ates,  what  is  legal  marriage  in  one  State  is  incest  on 
the  statute  books  of  another. 


You  must  decide  for  yourself.  Of  course  you  will  find 
general  principles  that  may  cover  the  case,  but  every- 
thing lies  in  the  application  of  the  principle.  Nor  can 
even  another  advise  you,  for  in  the  very  way  in  which 
you  tell  the  case,  you  may  half  consciously  give  it  a 
certain  bias  that  will  decide  his  answer.  There  may  be 
certain  shades  of  difference  between  these  two  dutie8 
before  which  you  stand  in  doubt — that  would  be  hardly 
capable  of  coherent  explanation — you  feel  them  easier 
than  you  can  utter  them.  But  they  all  enter  into  your 
final  decision. 

For  this  reason  must  we  be  so  very  cautious  in  judg- 
ing others.  We  see  the  act,  with  some  of  the  attending 
circumstances — we  may  even  guess  pretty  accurately  at 
the  dominant  motive.  But  that  is  all.  Of  a  thousand 
little  additional  details  that  decide  his  action — you  can 
never  know,  he  hardly  knows  all  of  them  himself — some 
of  the  inner  deciding  promptings  hardly  coming  to  the 
surface  of  consciousness  at  all.  No  one  man  should  be 
as  severely  judged  for  the  same  offence  as  another,  first 
because  no  one  man  is  exactly  like  another,  secondly 
because  the  attending  circumstances  can  never  be  entirely 
the  same,  and  thirdly  because  the  mood  in  which  the 
act  is  committed  may  be  different. 

For  moods  vary.  At  times  you  feel  more  righteous 
than  at  others.  In  certain  moods  you  could  almost 
commit  a  crime,  from  which  in  other  moods  you  would 
recoil  in  horror.  At  one  time  you  will  think  in  surprise 
of  what  a  strange  person  you  were  at  another  time. 
Therefore  a  man's  guilt  before  God,  must  be  measured 
somewhat  by  the  mood  in  which  he  sinned.  There  are 
moments  when  you  feel  so  exalted  that  you  would  be 
capable  of  great  heroism  or  self-renunciation.  It  is  a 
pity  that  when  you  feel  that  way  you  don't  act — instead 
of  letting  the  lofty  sensation  pass  over  you  without 


using;  it  for  good.  To  waste  your  best  moments  by 
inaction,  is  like  pouring  treasure  into  the  sea.  It  always 
for  instance  seems  to  me  so  unfortunate  when  we  let  our 
exquisite  waves  of  compassion  run  off  into  mere  useless 
pity,  instead  of  directing:  them  into  some  tangible  aid 
and  thereby  giving  to  the  good  impulse  which  otherwise 
would  be  momentary,  a  sort  of  permanency — an  immor- 
tality. On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  good  thing  if  you  let 
your  bad  moments  pass  off  in  harmless  passion.  Shut 
yourself  up  in  your  room  and  storm  and  rage  there,  and 
then  when  the  fit  is  over,  come  out  a  sane  and  reasonable 
man.  Alas,  if  we  give  an  immortality  to  our  bad  moments 
by  committing  our  deeds  then — how  many  crimes  are 
due  to  that. 

From  these  reflections  you  see  how  complicated  are 
duty  and  sin,  and  how  careful  we  must  be  in  deciding. 
Faults  and  virtues  do  not  stand  isolated  in  books  of 
moral  maxims;  they  become  faults  or  virtues  only  in 
connection  with  individuals.  Mind  and  conscience 
must  first  be  educated  before  we  can  recognize  sin  at  all. 
And  in  the  sight  of  God  nothing  is  a  sin  unless  the  soul 
recognizes  it  as  such.  Therefore 

"  The  beast — unfettered  by  the  sense  of  crime 
To  whom  a  conscience  never  wakes," 

does  not  sin,  however  brutal  and  savage  it  may  act. 

Even  a  very  young  child  cannot  be  punished  for 
selfishness  or  untruthfulness,  it  can  only  be  instructed. 
More  deeds  are  sins  to  a  civilized  man  than  to  a  savage, 
for  nigher  education  has  taught  the  former  to  recognize 
as  wrong,  what  the  untutored  conscience  of  the  latter 
would  regard  with  indifference.  For  this  reason  even 
our  secular  and  medical  codes  of  law  are  constantly 
changing  with  the  constant  higher  development  of  man, 
and  with  his  spiritual  growth.  What  one  age  permits 
another  age  will  condemn.  We  are  constantly  dropping 


both  from  our  political  and  religious  codes,  needless 
restrictions  and  formal  injunctions  that  uselessly  hamper 
the  liberty  of  man,  and  are  replacing  them  by  regulation 
that  are  moral  and  helpful. 

But  as  I  have  already  indicated  these  can  never  cover 
the  whole  sphere  of  duty  for  the  individual.  He  must 
often  be  a  law  unto  himself.  The  author  of  the  Book 
of  Judges  wishing  to  explain  the  roughness  of  the  times 
that  he  describes  says,  '  every  man  did  what  was  right 
in  his  own  eyes."  If  it  is  meant  to  imply  as  it  certainly 
does  that  there  was  no  organized  justice  or  police  or 
armed  authority — we  can  understand  that  such  condition 
would  encourage  in  some,  lawlessness  and  violence. 
But  in  the  realm  of  higher  duties  every  man  must  ulti" 
mately  do  what  is  right  in  his  own  eyes — must  be  a  law 
unto  himself.  Our  conscience  is  our  last  and  highest 
authority.  It  is  the  closest  means  by  which  man  can 
learn  the  will  of  God.  The  directing  voice  of  conscience 
is  higher  than  the  voice  of  any  oracle,  or  any  other  indi- 
vidual clothed  with  sacred  authority,  or  the  word  of  any 
holy  book.  If  your  own  soul  declares  your  deed  wrong 
— nothing  can  make  it  right.  The  fact  that  you  think 
your  deed  wicked  makes  it  so. 

What  is  sin  for  one  is  not  sin  for  another.  If  you 
think  it  wrong  to  kindle  fire  on  the  Sabbath,  and  you 
nevertheless  kindle  it,  then  it  is  a  sin  for  you,  just  as 
decidedly  as  stealing  would  be.  But  if  you  so  interpret 
that  Mosaic  command  as  to  consider  the  lighting  of  fire 
harmless,  then  it  is  not  a  sin  for  you.  In  this  way  two 
persons  may  stand  before  the  same  injunction,  which  is 
sin  for  one  and  not  for  another.  But  you  will  say, 
"following  that  same  line  of  argument,  then  if  a  man 
considers  stealing  no  sin,  and  if  it  obtains  the  approval 
of  his  conscience,  then  it  is  no  sin  ?"  Very  true.  But 
here  is  the  importance  of  wise  education  of  conscience. 


Centuries  of  experience  of  thought  and  noble  striving 
after  betterment  has  established  the  enduring  right  of 
certain  things  and  the  undoubted  wrong  of  others.  These 
are  the  golden  maxims  of  life,  the  fundamental  teachings 
of  all  religions,  the  foundation  of  all  civilised  society. 
They  belong  to  the  first  rudiments  of  all  education,  and 
are  so  early  and  so  thoroughly  implanted  that  they  be- 
come as  it  were  a  part  of  the  organized  conscience  of  the 
community  and  the  laws  on  which  it  works.  So  no 
civilized  being,  doubts  the  evil  of  falsehood,  stealth, 
murder,  unchastity  and  violence.  In  all  our  reasonings 
we  take  those  at  least  as  axioms  which  need  not  be 
reasoned  out  again. 

Therefore  the  danger  to  society  of  anarchists  who 
would  call  into  question  even  fundamental  laws,  and 
ask  us  to  doubt  and  reconsider  ihose  enduring  principles 
of  life  and  duty,  to  the  truth  and  necessity  of  which 
successive  ages  of  wise  and  good  men  have  borne  testi 
mony  and  stamped  with  their  approval  Either  accept 
this  or  regard  all  civilization  as  a  mistake,  deny  all 
improvement  and  growth,  and  doubt  the  concentrated 
wisdom  of  all  humanity. 

The  attitude  of  these  deluded  zealots  at  least  holds 
out  to  us  a  warning,  that  in  acting  according  to  the 
dictates  of  our  conscience  as  I  said  we  should,  and  in 
adhering  to  that  which  is  right  in  our  own  eyes,  that  we 
must  weigh  and  ponder  before  deciding.  One  of  our 
duties  is  to  find  out  what  is  duty;  and  if  we  evade  an 
ordeal  of  painful  thought  to  get  at  the  absolute  right, 
and  impatiently  act  by  guess-work,  or  are  content  with 
approximation — why  then  we  sin  in  the  process  of  decid- 
ing our  action,  apart  from  the  sin  we  may  commit  in  the 
action  itself.  My  chief  purpose  then  in  dwelling  on 
this,  is  not  so  much  to  tell  you  to  fulfil  your  obligations, 
as  to  show  you  the  importance  of  tirelessly  and  earnestly 


searching  for  those  obligations — they  wont  always  come 
to  you, — and  to  demonstrate  the  vital  necessity  of  your 
being  keenly  alert  in  deciding  what  is  right  and  wrong 
for  you,  since  no  one  else  can  do  it  for  you,  and  since 
by  the  way  in  which  you  decide  right  and  wrong  for 
yourself,  do  you  determine  your  haracter. 

Conscience  can  be  educated,  expanded,  distorted, 
dulled  or  even  killed,  and  those  perpetual  decisions  of 
yours — saying,  "this  I  think  right,'' "this  I  think  wrong," 
and  acting  on  them,  is  moulding  your  conscience  in  all 
these  different  ways.  Show  me  the  book  of  morals  that 
your  nature  has  finally  drawn  up,  and  I  will  tell  you 
what  you  are. 

For  we  all  do  unconsciously  draw  up  such  a  code, 
and  I  wish  to  point  out  a  fatal  error  that  we  nearly  all 
make.  We  are  all  of  us  more  sensitive  to  sins  of  com- 
mission than  to  sins  of  omission.  You  would  not  actively 
commit  a  wrong,  perhaps  though  you  might  passively 
commit  the  sin  of  not  doing  a  certain  good  when  the 
opportunity  was  there.  We  are  all  more  guilty  of  nega- 
tive sins  than  of  positive  sins.  This  is  where  our  self- 
delusion  comes  in;  we  do  not  always  think  that  the 
abstaining  from  good  may  be  evil,  and  that  there  is  no 
middle,  neutral  ground  between  them. 

Like  the  school-boy  when  called  to  account  we  say» 
•'  I  didn't  do  anything," — exactly.  We  have  our  finger 
on  the  sore  spot — the  sin  of  doing  nothing.  No  life 
that  is  empty  is  sinless.  My  experience  with  most  of 
those  I  meet  is  that  everything  beyond  being  a  law-abid- 
ing citizen,  and  supporting  one's  family  is  considered  as 
entirely  voluntary — a  sort  of  extra  beyond  the  bounds 
of  actual  duty — an  overweight  granted  put  of  the  pure 
goodness  of  heart.  If  they  do  a  little  spasmodic  charity, 
they  think  they  have  done  such  a  great  thing — such  a 
mitzveh — and  pat  themselves  on  the  back  in  satisfied  self- 
complacency. 


We  must  enlarge  the  realm  of  our  distinctly  recognized 
duties,  and  so  cultivate  our  conscience  to  that  higher 
degree,  that  we  will  be  dissatisfied  with  ourselves  unless 
our  obligations  cover  that  extended  field.  That  vast  terri- 
tory of  useful  activity,  in  which  fine  shades  of  virtue 
begin  to  be  exercised,  that  lies  beyond  the  populous 
centre  of  the  necessary  duties  ot  mere  respectable  exist- 
ence— we  treat  too  much,  like  some  foreign  land,  to 
visit  which  lies  beyond  our  moral  means — some  remote 
sphere,  far  beyond  the  temperate  zone,  which  only  the 
boldest  explorer  in  the  undiscovered  depths  of  the  soul 
would  venture  to  direct  his  sails.  We  each  map  out  our 
own  lives  in  a  way  and  our  own  little  world  of  work,  and 
there  are  some  people  who  make  for  themselves  such  a 
small  world,  who  recognize  so  few  duties  to  others,  think- 
ing themselves  highly  praiseworthy  if  they  but  keep  out 
of  the  clutches  of  the  law,  'hat,  in  their  selfishness  and 
hardness  and  meanness,  most  of  you,  whose  lives  are 
fuller  and  worthier,  would  shrink  from  them  in  disgust. 
But  there  are  others,  again,  whose  conception  of  obliga- 
tion is  so  much  higher  than  yours,  who  voluntarily 
live  in  the  poor  quarters  of  town,  in  the  Tenth  Ward  of 
New  York,  in  Whitechapel  of  London,  simply  to  influ- 
ence the  lives  of  the  less  fortunate  for  good,  who  would, 
perhaps,  in  their  turn,  shrink  from  you  in  disgust  in  your 
comfortable,  pleasure-seeking  lives.  Here  we  see  what 
varying  degrees  of  duties  may  exist  even  within  the 
limits  of  respectable  society. 

Think  of  the  different  standard  of  duty  thai  these 
people  have  set  up  as  compared  with  some  of  yours.  So 
lofty  is  their  view  of  life,  that  to  live  as  comfortably  as 
opportunity  would  permit  them,  they  would  regard  as  a 
species  of  sinfulness.  I  meet,  on  the  other  hand,  so  many 
young  women  whose  lives  are  practically  empty,  full  of 
frivolity  and  idleness.  They  may,  perhaps,  play  at  a 


IO 


little  make-believe  charity,  but  it  is  only  a  make  believe 
There  are  young  married  women,  again,  who  think  that 
if  they  but  just  take  care  of  their  small  families,  aided 
by  plenty  of  expensive  nssistance,  that  the  rest  of  their 
time  may  be  conscientiously  spent  at  the  kaffee-clatch, 
or  what  not,  and  so  they  live  their  selfish  lives.  Most 
excellent  and  respectable  and  irreproachable  people! 
Their  husbands  are  industrious  and  honest,  and  pass 
their  evenings  at  the  club  playing  cards,  but  nobody 
could  say  a  word  against  them.  They  pay  their  bills  and 
support  their  families  —  even  go  to  Divine  service  twice  a 
year. 

God  help  the  world  if  it  were  made  up  entirely  of  such 
people.  Life  means  struggle  and  persistent  effort  ; 
improvement  comes  from  sheer  persevering  strife  with 
evil  and  animal  forces.  In  this  way  humanity  has 
ripened  with  pains  and  tears  and  heart  throes  and  fear- 
less moral  courage  and  noble  self-denial.  Nothing  good 
has  come  easy  to  man.  He  has  had  to  fight  for  liberty, 
knowledge,  equality,  right,  morals,  freedom  of  conscience 
—  he  has  had  to  bleed  for  these  things  and  die  for  them, 
that  others  after  might  live  by  them  and  enjoy  them.  Is 
it  all  over  now?  Have  we  reached  the  acme  of  excellence 
in  anythingp^ls  there  to  be  no  heroism  in  the  nineteenth 
century?  Are  all  the  struggles  over  ?  The  cry  of  the 
hungry  is  just  as  bitter.  The  problem  of  labor  is  just  as 
intricate.  Have  we  reached  our  political  ideal?  Of 
course  we  have  not.  Our  State  institutions  are  full  of 
abuses.  We  know  that  religion  is  not  what  we  would 
have  it.  Modern  inventions  have  not  removed  crime; 
prisons  are  still  full.  Look  at  that  awful,  shocking  side 
of  life,  on  which  Dr.  Parkhurst  cast  a  light  for  a  moment. 

Have  we  time  for  comfortable  leisure  with  these  things 
before  us?  Are  they  not  our  duties  —  yours  and  mine  — 
just  as  much  as  anybody's?  Is  it  not,  then,  a  kind  of  sin- 


II 


fulness  to  shut  this  out  from  our  sight  and  knowledge, 
and  simply  to  hoard  up  for  ourselves,  and  to  give  all 
our  thought  and  all  our  work  just  for  self?  Might  not 
a  sensitive  conscience  construe  this  neglect  into  just  as 
real  a  sin  as  embezzlement  or  perjury? 

The  principle  I  wish  to  enunciate,  then,  is  the  larger 
the  number  of  useful  actions  that  you  have  brought 
within  the  sphere  of  your  duties,  and  to  neglect  which 
you  would  consider  sin,  the  nobler  you  are.  This  is  the 
measure  of  your  character  and  your  worth.  We  judge 
nations,  as  individuals,  by  what  they  brand  as  wrong. 
Some  people  never  fall  below  their  own  standard  of 
right,  and  never  disobey  the  voice  of  their  own  con. 
science;  but  their  standard  is  so  low  and  their  conscience 
so  slightly  developed,  that  they  are  much  meatier  crea- 
tures than  others  who  do  not  always  come  up  to  their 
own  ideal  of  right,  because  that  ideal  is  so  very,  very 
high. 

Some  of  you  may  have  made  it  your  duty  to  look 
into  the  lives  of  your  employes,  to  keep  them  straight 
when  out  of  the  store,  and,  even  by  constant  inquiry,  to 
keep  an  eye  on  their  families,  and  feel  conscious-stricken, 
now  that,  in  the  turmoil  of  financial  troubles,  this  accus- 
tomed duty  has  been  somewhat  neglected.  While  those 
who  consider  that  in  no  way  their  concern,  as  lying 
entirely  outside  of  their  duty,  don't  feel  in  the  least  dis- 
turbed. The  approval  of  your  conscience  is  not  enough; 
it  is  the  quality  of  your  conscience  that  should  give  you 
most  concern.  Better  not  to  get  quite  the  approval  of 
a  very  sensitive,  active,  remorseless  conscience  than  the 
complete  approval  of  a  dormant,  sleepy,  comfortable 
conscience.  Israel,  not  quite  obedient  to  Jehovah,  was 
higher  and  better  than  Canaan,  quite  faithful  to  Baal. 

Some  lives  are  perfectly  harmless  and  perfectly  empty 
No  particular  excellence  and  no  particular  failing, 


12 


except  that  monstrous  failing  of  —  no  particular  excel- 
lence. They  would  not  commit  a  crime  for  the  world, 
nor  an  act  of  heroism  either.  Two  boys  write  compo 
sitions.  One  has  no  grammatical  errors,  no  bad  spellingi 
no  blots,  no  ridiculous  notions,  and  yet  there  is  nothing 
in  the  composition.  The  writing  of  the  other  is  full  of 
mistakes,  has  to  be  revised  on  every  line,  but  the  teacher 
sees  in  it  the  spark  of  genius.  There  are  some  failings 
that  are  almost  the  accompaniments  of  great  virtues  that 
meaner  natures  are  entirely  free  from.  But  now  beware, 
lest  you  take  comfort  from  some  of  your  failings  as  an 
indication  of  possible  greatness.  Evil  is  a  very  poor 
sign  of  good.  Self-deception  is  the  most  hopeless  of  all 
deceptions. 

Look  more  strictly  to  yourselves,  and  don't  take  too 
much  in  character  for  granted.  Remember  every  'time 
you  reveal  a  new  sin,  you  reveal  a  new  possible  excel- 
lence —  that's  how  man  improves.  It  is  stepping  higher. 
Some  carry  their  obligation  to  others  as  to  abstain  from 
intoxicating  drink,  because  the  example  may  encourage 
drunkenness  to  weaker  natures,  and  not  to  deal  at  the 
large  stores,  because  they  may  ruin  the  small  shopkeep- 
ers. I  do  not  say  that  you  should  do  either  of  these 
things.  I  simply  instance  them,  to  show  you  how 
large  the  sphere  of  duty  may  be  made  by  good  and  lov- 
ing men  and  women,  who  ponder  day  by  day  to  devise 
new  means  of  helping  others,  and  rejoice  when  a  new 
mode  of  helpfulness  dawns  upon  them,  though  it  will 
mean  a  new  sacrifice.  One  of  our  confessions  should 
always  be,  how  much  there  is  to  do  in  this  world  that 
God  has  given  us,  and  how  little  we  have  done. 


THE  FOOL  HATH  SAID   IN  HIS  HEART, 
THERE  IS  NO  GOD. 


The  fool  hath    said  in  his  heart, 
tliere  is  no  God. 


The  Hebrew  word  *?33  translated  "fool,"  might  better 
be  translated  knave.  It  really  means  the  vicious  churl 
who  deliberately  denies  the  good.  The  deniers  of  reli 
gious  doctrines  have  been  more  leniently  treated  in 
Jewish  Law  and  Practice  than  in  any  other  of  the  reli- 
gions of  mankind.  Judaism  has  always  held  men  respon- 
sible for  their  works  rather  than  for  their  beliefs.  For 
we  cannot  so  deliberately  decide  just  what  we  shall 
believe,  as  we  can  just  what  we  shall  do.  Our  reason 
moves  in  spite  of  us.  1  could  never  understand  how 
men  claiming  to  be  religious  should  have  seized  those 
who  believed  differently  from  themselves,  tied  them  to 
stakes  and  permitted  them  to  burn  at  slow  fires.  In 
most  of  these  historic  instances,  if  there  was  any  choice 
of  belief  between  persecutor  and  victim,  I  think  you 
would  have  felt  inclined  to  side  with  the  martyred  here- 
tics. Often  the  so-called  unbelievers  were  only  unbe- 
lievers in  things  unbelievable,  but  all  the  deeper  believ- 
ers in  things  rational  and  good.  It  is  ridiculous  to  ask 
people  to  believe  in  God,  as  some  ecclesiastical  Diet  or 
Synod  may  decide.  That  is  certain  death  to  real  religious 
feeling.  The  conscience  cannot  be  adjusted  to  suit  the 
last  convention  or  even  the  majority  vote.  We  must  be 
true  to  ourselves  if  we  would  be  true  to  God. 

Many  have  become  doubters  only  because  their  deep 
soul  could  not  contain  a  shallow  fancy  or  a  monstrous 
delusion.  "There's  more  re.il  faith  in  honest  doubt, 
believe  me,  than  in  half  the  creeds,"  said  Tennyson. 
Some  people  never  doubt  only  because  they  never  think. 
Therefore  better  the  man  striving  to  reach  the  core  of 


,     ?  2  * 
4 

things,  anxiously  wrestling  with  doubt,  than  he,  who 
mechanically  wears  the  yoke  of  tradition  and  worships 
in  listless  conformity. 

"The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is  no  God," 
should  he  therefore  be  condemned  ?  May  not  the  sceptic 
be  just  as  honest  as  the  man  of  faith? 

There  are  believers  and  there  are  believers — there  are 
deniers  and  there  are  deniers.  There  are  certain  phases 
of  belief  and  faith  that  are  indications  of  character.  To 
a  certain  extent  our  beliefs  decide  what  we  are:  to  be 
able  to  believe,  to  be  gifted  with  faith  is  often  the  test 
of  a  great  soul.  To  be  deprived  of  this  privilege,  of 
this  trust  in  the  Infinite  God  and  in  the  infinite  good, 
often  implies  a  grave  deficiency  in  disposition.  For  the 
depth  of  our  belief  is  often  the  measure  of  our  greatness. 
We  must  likewise  distinguish  between  belief  and 
belief.  There  are  believers  who  are  vicious  creatures — 
but  you  will  find  that  their  beliefs  are  not  real  and  vital. 
There  are  unbelievers  noble  and  self-denying,  but  you 
will  find  they  are  unconscious  believers.  For  no  real 
belief  in  a  vital  idea  could  end  in  itself,  without  leaving 
its  impress  on  our  being,  any  more  than  a  red  hot  bar 
could  be  laid  on  a  block  of  wood  and  leave  no  mark  of 
its  presence. 

Belief  is  not  like  a  garment  that  can  be  doffed  and 
donned  at  pleasure,  it  is  rather  like  our  network  of 
nerves,  a  part  of  ourselves,  growing  with  us  and  insepa- 
rable from  us  to  the  last  day.  You  cannot  tear  apart 
vour  real  beliefs  from  yourselves,  because  they  are  your- 
selves, and  what  you  feel  and  what  you  do^  what  you  are 
and  what  you  will  become  depends  upon  the  convictions 
of  your  soul. 

Now  we  are  nearer  to  the  meaning  of  our  text  —  "  The 
fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is  no  God." 

Notice  how    closely   allied  are  faiths   in  God  and  in 


man.  When  you  begin  to  lose  faith  in  one  you  have 
learned  to  trust,  you  will  find  yourself  losing  faith  in 
the  Invisible  God.  With  the  sinking  of  high  human 
trust,  the  dignity  of  life  sinks  too.  On  the  other  hand, 
you  cease  to  believe  in  your  own  better  self  when  you 
doubt  the  existence  of  the  everlasting  ideal  that  was 
your  guide  and  copy.  Thus  the  finer  impulses  begin  to 
dull  and  you  find  yourself  a  meaner  creature  than  you 
were.  Very  often  the  moral  nature  of  a  pure  innocent 
creature  has  been  completely  unhinged  by  an  act  of 
baseness  and  betrayal,  which  has  often  led  to  religious 
denial  and  spiritual  abandonment. 

For  belief  in  God  includes  belief  in  nobility  of  man, 
in  goodness  of  the  world,  in  the  dignity  of  life,  just  as 
surely  as  fruit  and  flowers  and  vegetation  imply  roots 
hidden  somewhere.  God  is  a  vast  word  and  means,  love 
and  righteousness— it  means  endless  power  to  create  and 
to  endure,  and  to  make  justice  the  foundation  of  the 
world.  It  means  supreme  consciousness  and  supreme 
life.  Only  a  fool  could  say  there  is  no  God.  Oh,  what 
a  worse  than  fool  to  stand  in  this  vast  universe  godless 
and  alone  To  think  that  all  is  here  by  chance,  and 
whether  we  rise  or  fall,  whether  we  flourish  or  collapse 
into  the  yawning  abyss  of  forgetfulness,  all  depends  on 
the  blind,  unguided  movement  of  a  chaos  of  atoms. 
None  so  solitary  as  he  who  knows  not  the  gre.it  and 
everlasting  Friend.  "  With  orphaned  heart  he  mourns 
beside  the  immeasurable  corpse  of  nature."  Yes,  corpse 
for  the  animating  soul  of  God  is  gone  Oh,  to  die  and 
to  have  to  leave  one's  children  in  such  a  world! 

Faith  in  God    does  not  depend  upon   logic  or  argu 
ment.     We   cannot  teach    faith  any  more    than   we  can 
teach  parents  to  love  their  children.     The  best   senti- 
ments  cannot  always  be    argued,  they  go    too  deep  for 
reason.     We  must    not  confuse   moral  conviction    with 


intellectual  conviction,  for  here  is  the  distinction  be- 
tween religion  and  philosophy,  between  the  metnphysical 
and  the  practical.  Conduct  is  not  a  mere  deduction 
from  reason,  although  the  utilitarians  try  to  make  it  so. 

You  cannot  be  convinced  of  God  outside  of  you  if  you 
do  not  find  God  within  you.  For  if  we  think  the  world 
be  petty  and  godless  and  animal,  it  is  because  we  are 
petty  and  godless  and  animal,  and  see  reflected  the  un- 
flattering vision  of  ourselves.  To  believe  in  God  is  a 
moral  education.  I  do  not  mean  such  a  belief  in  God 
as  is  shared  by  many  I  daily  meet.  A  belief  inherited, 
but  not  felt,  a  belief  mechanical,  but  not  real;  a  belief 
that  does  not  influence — that  is  not  at  all  that  vivid  belief 
that  touches  every  nerve.  God  to  such  is  but  a  shadowy 
idea.  They  may  repeat  the  ^^iL?11  y.&.  They  may  add 
n  nsi  "  Thou  shalt  love  God,"  but  they  do  not  love 
God.  He  is  too  far  away  from  their  thoughts  and  their 
feelings  and  their  interests:  they  believe  in  the  existence 
of  God  as  they  believe  in  the  existence  of  Africa.  Even 
while  praying  to  Him  they  are  not  thinking  of  Him. 
And  only  when  danger  comes  and  they  fear  an  impend- 
ing calamity,  do  they  ask  themselves  *'  How  near  are  we 
to  God?v  For  remember  there  are  atheists  in  practise — 
/".  e.  those  who  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  divinity,  yes, 
— but  He  is  away  outside  of  our  human  world;  not  influ- 
encing human  lives  or  human  doings,  but  leaving  good 
and  bad  alike  to  shift  for  themselves.  This  denial  of 
Providence,  of  the  continual  nearness  of  our  Maker 
about  us  and  in  us,  I  call  practical  atheism. 

The  reason,  the  belief  of  some  of  you  in  God  is  so 
shadowy  and  doubtful  is  first,  because  you  think  that 
faith  is  a  something  that  will  come  of  itself.  Faith 
needs  the  education  of  self-discipline,  the  cultivation  of 
the  spirit  and  earnest  religious  meditation. 

Just  as    belief  in  God    implies  other   beliefs,  so  denial 


of  God  involves  many  other  denials.  It  is  these  other 
denials  that  are  its  practical  consequence,  that  will  most 
appeal  to  you.  The  denial  of  God  leads  first  to  the  deni- 
al of  the  soul.  It  brings  us  to  the  dreary  conclusion  that 
we  are  nothing  more  than  clods  of  earth  kept  going  by 
chemical  combustion.  Life  and  thought  and  feeling  are 
reduced  to  mere  mechanical  and  automatic  action  like 
an  electric  motor,  and  when  the  supply  is  exhausted,  the 
person  dies,  just  as  a  fire  goes  out.  Thus  the  denial  of 
God  means  the  denial  of  man,  I  mean  man  as  a  respon- 
sible creature,  man  as  something  more  than  the  beast 
that  seeks  its  carnal  appetite,  man  as  touched  with  the 
divine  spark  that  breathes  love  and  inspiration  and 
glorious  self-denial  and  martyrdom. 

'  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is  no  God."  If 
God  is  not,  then  there  is  none  beyond  or  above  us — we 
have  no  ideal  for  progress — no  higher  power  or  higher 
goodness,  as  our  standard  of  perfection,  to  spur  our 
moral  emulation.  No  grander  model  from  which  to 
shape  our  lives.  But  we  ourselves  in  all  our  weakness 
and  insufficiency  and  wavering  aims,  would  stand  the 
highest  in  the  universe.  Take  God  out  of  the  world, 
what  a  poor  world  it  becomes.  Though  our  virtues  be 
small  'tis  inspiring  to  feel  that  there  is  an  infinite  source 
of  all  virtues;  virtue  itself  grows  larger.  Though  our 
power  be  limited,  there  is  assurance  in  knowing  that  it 
is  but  a  modicum  of  a  boundless  Power  that  is  directing 
all  tilings.  It  makes  us  better  to  realize  the  greatness 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  world. 

Denying  God  leads  to  the  denial  of  what  we  call  the 
moral  sense.  Conscience  is  explained  away.  "What 
is  it  ?"  ask  the  atheist.  Schopenhauer  answers,  one-fifth 
fear,  one  fifth  superstitution,  one-fifth  prejudice,  one- 
fifth  vanity,  one-fifth  custom.  Thus  are  the  very  founda- 
tion stones  of  morality  loosened.  We  are  on  this  theory 


a 
8 


kept  from  errors,  by  a  combination  of  errors  equally 
despicable.  Thus  even  righteousness  is  dissolved  into 
a  something  almost  unrighteous.  The  gold  of  goodness 
turns  out  a  dross  of  pretence  when  passed  through 
the  atheistic  crucible.  We  are  not  surprised  to  find  the 
school  of  deniers  wishing  to  eliminate  from  our  diction- 
aries —  on  the  one  hand  —  merit,  and  on  the  other  hand  — 
guilt,  by  classing  the  latter  with  disease  and  the  former 
with  self-interest.  Duty  ceases  to  be  a  divine  messenger, 
but  is  simply  a  phantasm  made  up  of  desire  and  fear, 
and  thus  all  moral  distinctions  are  broken  down.  And 
all  the  grand  array  of  virtues  for  which  we  have  so 
struggled  are  contemptuously  defined  as  sensation, 
passion,  a  bubble  in  the  blood.  We  have  almost  reached 
the  lowest  rung  of  degradation  in  this  gloomy  philo- 
sophy of  denial  when  life  is  compared  to  an  ass  going 
to  market  with  a  bundle  of  hay  before  it,  who  sees  noth. 
ing  but  the  bundle  of  hay.  And  so  step  by  step,  we  are 
prepared  for  this  final  definition  of  another  materialist. 
"  mankind  is  a  rascal,  the  world  lives  by  humbug,  so 
will  I."  Might  not  a  reasoning  from  the  text,  "The 
fool  hath  saith  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God,'  lead  in  our 
heart  to  saying,  'I  know  no  authority  for  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments —  all  these  laws  may-be  a  mistake.  I  will  be 
a  libertine,  a  debauchee  -I'll  have  my  fling.  Let  us 
eat  and  be  merry." 

And  so  I  find  that  the  godless  state  is  generally  the 
cynical  state.  The  deniers  of  God,  the  soul  and  con- 
s  ience,  become  the  deniers  of  that  better  and  purer  side 
of  human  endeavor.  They  fail  to  see  God  in  history,  in 
progress,  in  natural  law,  in  human  nature.  They  be- 
come sceptical  of  every  disinterested  good,  and  ask  how 
much  was  paid  for  it.  They  say  every  man  has  his 
price.  They  explain  heroism  by  ambition,  and  martyr- 
dom by  vanity.  They  sneer  incredulously  at  the  virtue 


and  innocence  of  woman,  auu  il  acknowledging  it  at  all, 
give  material  and  selfish  explanations.  They  rob  mar- 
riage of  its  ideal  side  and  even  love  is  seen  only  in  its 
lower  and  carnal  phases.  At  this  hopeless  picture  of 
man,  all  human  endeavor  seems  to  be  a  mistake,  and  all 
struggles  for  higher  good  or  any  good,  for  betterment 
of  character  and  discipline  seem  to  be  useless  and  vain. 
The  nerves  of  perseverance  are  cut,  generous  enthusiasm 
is  discouraged,  and  we  can  but  settle  down  into  the 
ignoble  despair  of  a  disgraceful  pessimism.  The  lives 
of  the  great  heroes  are  exhumed  and  pulled  to  pieces. 
Moses  is  a  pretender,  Samuel  and  the  prophets  are  poli- 
ticians, Socrates  a  vain  bore,  Washington  a  drunkard, 
Cromwell  a  hypocrite  Mahomet  an  impostor.  And  so 
the  moth  of  negative  cynicism  and  brutal  denial  eats 
away  our  fairest  pictures  and  denounces  them  as  the 
idle  dreams  of  a  credulous  age. 

Enough  of  this  filthy  philosophy.  Humanity,  its 
patience  exhausted,  calls  out  in  rebellion:  "Show  us  an 
untainted  good,  or  our  souls  will  starve."  We  will  look 
at  another  picture.  There  was  a  man  who  lived  in  the 
land  of  Uz,  and  none  have  yet  decided  to  what  age  he 
belonged — what  matter?  His  name  was  Job — a  name 
that  dispels  the  spirits  of  darkness  and  evil.  All  the 
human  misfortunes  that  the  saddest  lives  know  entered 
into  his — loss  of  wealth,  loss  of  children,  physical  agony. 
"  Dost  thou  still  hold  fast  thine  integrity?  Renounce 
God  and  die,"  said  his  companion.  And  Job  replied  : 
''Thou  speakest  as  one  of  the  foolish  speak.  What!  shall 
we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God  and  not  receive 
evil?  Is.  my  righteousness  more  than  God's?  The  Lord 
giveth,  the  Lord  taketh  away.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord."  That  is  what  is  meant  by  faith.  A  belief  that 
stands  such  a  test  — a  firmness  in  right  that  cannot  be 
broken  by  trials  and  pain.  Such  is  the  faith  that  I 


TO 


assert  is  not  an  accident  of  mind  or  a  deduction  of  logic, 
but  an  indication  of  sterling  character.  Such  is  the  faith 
that  does  not  come  of  itself  by  drift  of  thought,  but  has 
to  63  foi^ic  for  by  wrestling  with  evil,  and,  by  super- 
human effort,  holding  fast  to  good.  I  stated  at  the 
beginning  that  we  Hebrews  rather  despise  faith  simply. 
It  seems  too  theoretical.  That  is  true  only  of  a  certain 
phase  of  faith  "What  matter  what  a  man  believes  if  his 
life  is  right?"  you  ask.  You  are  correct.  But  you  will 
find  always,  if  you  probe  deep  enough,  a  right  faith 
behind  that  right  life  that  alone  makes  it  possible.  The 
man  may  call  himself  a  sceptic;  but  you  will  see  that 
when  you  touch  his  belief  in  the  all-pervading  moral 
law,  in  the  inevitable  Divine  Power  in  the  world  and  in 
him  that  is  making  for  righteou*iess,  when  you  touch 
the  belief  that  we  owe  duties  somewhere,  that  the  good 
is  beautiful  and  must  be  sought,  then  you  will  find  he  is 
not  sceptica'.,  but  these  beliefs  are  the  very  fibre  of  his 
being,  the  warp  and  woof  of  all  his  actions. 

The  author  of  Ecclesiastes  is  called  a  scoffer  sometimes, 
but  he  said  this:  "Though  a  sinner  do  evil  a  hundred 
times  and  his  days  be  prolonged,  yet  surely  I  know  that 
it  shall  be  well  with  them  that  fear  God."  Place  it  side 
by  side  with  the  text:  "The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart 
there  is  no  God.1'  Between  these  two  attitudes  we  see 
the  difference  between  religion  and  irreligion.  "  Right- 
eousness tendeth  to  life,"  has  been  ever  the  watchword 
of  our  people. 

Our  ancestors  did  not  despise  faitli  and  belief  when  it 
came  to  the  martyr's  test.  Hide  the  principles  of  religion 
as  you  will  behind  ceremonies  and  formulasatid  conven- 
tional usages,  these  foundations  must  always  be  (here. 
Without  a  hidden  source  up  in  the  hills  somewhere,  the 
river  would  soon  dry  up,  mighty  as  it  looks  at  the  har- 
bor. Without  a  perennial  spring  of  faith  somewhere  up 


II 


in  the  hidden  depths  of  the  soul,  the  inspiration  for  noble 
deeds  will  soon  exhaust  itself.  The  good  physician  looks 
not  to  symptoms,  but  to  the  hidden  root  of  disease, 
though  he  may  have  to  trace  it  back  even  to  a  succeed- 
ing generation. 

Let  us  look  at  the  text  once  more  before  closing. 
"The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God."  Tak- 
ing the  word,  fool,  in  its  popular  signification,  there  is 
a  fine  piece  of  sarcasm  implied  here.  The  sceptics 
think  themselves  so  critical  and  so  clever.  All  else  are 
living  in  a  fool's  paradise.  They  alone  see  and  know 
things  as  they  are.  Yet,  very  often  the  unbeliever, 
wishing  to  be  wise  above  all  knowledge,  plunges  into  a 
darkness  deeper  than  all  ignorance—  a  blindness  more 
incurable  than  that  of  the  "common  herd,"  as  they  call 
the  people  whom  they  so  thoroughly  despise.  What  is 
true  knowledge?  Is  it  not  to  be  wise  with  a  wisdom  that 
is  goodness?  Are  not  these  two  texts  one  idea,  looked 
at  from  the  positive  and  the  negative  side:  "The 
fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God;"  "The  begin- 
ning of  wisdom  is  the  fear  of  the  Lord;  to  fear  God, 
that  is  wisdom,  and  to  depart  from  evil,  that  is  under- 
standing." 

So  I  know  no  higher  wisdom  than  that  of  him  whose 
fine  moral  penetration  sees  God  even  in  the  darkness  of 
adversity,  and  whose  spiritual  insight  has  learned  to 
declare,  even  in  the  midst  of  misfortune  3iO~?  IT  OJ.  Oh, 
the  grandeur  of  the  soul  ever  led  by  that  faith  that  can 
"  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord,"  whose  belief  does 
not  shift  with  circumstance,  but  whose  reliance  on  God 
is  so  deep  and  so  complete  that  no  calamity  can  disturb 
it.  Let  us  strive  to  acquire  that  uncomplaining  patience 
that  has  learnt  to  labor  and  to  wait,  and  slowly  the  light 
will  grow.  And  though  Divinity  be  invisible  because 
spiritual,  though  none  can  see  the  face  of  God  and  live, 


yet  will  we  follow  His  unseen  guidance,  and  never  give 
up  the  precious  faith  that  feels  that  virtue  is  the  highest 
good,  and  lives  the  faith  it  feels.  This  is  religion,  this 
is  godliness. 


Faith    and  Reason. 


BY  REV.  DR.  MAURICE    H.   HARRIS. 


We  cannot  hide  our  eyes  to  the  growth  of  unbelief, 
The  scepticism  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  even  deeper  than 
the  scepticism  of  the  eighteenth;  then  the  freethinkers  were  for 
the  most  part  deists,  now  they  are  for  the  most  part  materialists. 
There  is  a  growing  fear  that  knowledge  is  killing  religion — 
that  they  stand  to  each  other  in  inverse  ratio,  and  the  more 
we  know  the  less  we  believe. 

\\e  are  terrified  at  our  own  discoveries,  and  are  alarmed  at 
the  bewildering  infinities  that  our  researches  are  opening  up. 
Science  has  revealed  to  us  a  much  vaster  univejse  than  was 
ever  pictured  by  the  unaided  imagination  of  our  ancestors. 
But  though  theoretically  God  is  nearer  to  us — since  His  omni- 
presence is  more  thoroughly  demonstrated — practically  He  is 
further  away  from  us,  lost  in  His  own  immensity.  Again  those 
two  great  principles  of  evolution:  "natural  selection"  and  "the 
survival  of  the  fittest,''  have  made  the  universe  well-nigh 
automatic,  and  almost  explained  away  the  need  of  Providence. 
While  some  seem  to  feel  that  evolution  has  magnified 
creation  in  general,  but  minimized  man  in  particular;  that 
he  is  no  longer  the  centre  of  the  universe  with  all  things 
made  for  his  benefit,  but  that  he  simply  represents  a  stage  — 
the  highest  stage  it's  true— in  creation.  There  is  no  longer  a 
gap  between  him  and  the  '"brutes  that  perish;"  perhaps  he  is 
a  brute  that  perishes  himself. 

While  progress  of  science  has  awakened  these  fears,  the 
advance  of  philosophy  has  also  given  cause  for  alarm.  The 
far-reaching  application  of  cause  and  effect  threatens  to  rob 
man  of  freedom  of  will  and  hence  of  personal  responsibility. 


Some  disciples  of  the  Utilitarian  School  explain  away  human 
worth,  saying  we  are  no  more  responsible  for  our  sins  than  for 
our  diseases.  But  tell  to  the  masses  at  large  that  good  deeds 
are  not  to  be  accounted  to  their  merit  and  that  they  are  not 
to  be  blamed  for  evil,  —then  we  will  undermine  the  morals 
and  even  the  stability  of  society. 

All  these  new  theories  have  increased  man's  doubts— have 
made  him  less  sure  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or  even  of 
the  distinct  existence  of  the  soul  at  all.  That  teaching  of 
Antigonus  ben  Socho,that  we  should  do  good  for  its  own  sake 
and  not  for  the  sake  of  reward  or  for  the  fear  of  punishment, 
has  been  carried  too  far  when  it  is  used  to  eliminate  the  hope 
of  future  life.  The  old  fear  of  punishment  in  the  future. which  I 
am  proud  to  say  never  played  any  figure  in  Jewish  theology  — 
so  that"  a  Jewish  Dante  is  almost  as  unthinkable  as  a  Jewish 
John  Ward,  Preacher— may  well  take  its  departure.  But  it  is 
not  well  if  that  old  fear  is  followed  by  a  dread  more  awful  even 
than  eternal  punishment — viz.  that  we  and  our  doings  are 
entirely  ignored  by  the  powers  above.  The  thought  of  pun- 
ishment may  have  its  terrors,  but  the  thought  of  neglect  is 
still  more  terrible.  When  man  fears  less,  he  hopes  less. 
If  we  take  from  the  future  its  consequences,  we  take  from 
life  its  enthusiasm. 

Now,  is  it  true  that  as  we  know  more  we  feel  less  ?  Does 
knowledge  make  us  cold  ?  Does  the  fact  that  we  have  learned 
the  causes  of  so  many  things  lessen  our  sense  of  reverence  ? 
Is  science  the  enemy  of  religion  after  all?  Is  ignorance  neces- 
sary to  faith  ? 

If  these  conclusions  were  true  they  would  fill  us  with  melan- 
choly and  dismay.  We  would  really  be  progressing  backwards. 
The  ignorance  of  savagery  would  have  been  the  golden  age. 
The  tree  of  knowledge  would  indeed  be  the  disenchanter, 
driving  us  from  the  garden  of  hope  and  ideals  to  the  gloomy 
desert  of  a  despairing  reality. 


Let  us  hasten  to  reassure  ourselves  at  the  outset.  Faith  is 
not  the  measure  of  our  ignorance.  The  people  who  say  that 
religion  is  only  needed  by  the  masses  who  cannot  reason— do 
not  know  what  they  are  talking  about.  No  greater  libel 
against  religion  was  ever  uttered  than  that.  In  J.  S.  Mill's 
wonderful  essay  on  "  Liberty,"  he  says  they  who  least  appre- 
ciate liberty  are  those  most  in  need  of  it.  I  may  say  the  same 
of  religion.  No !  religion  and  ignorance  are  not  mutual  con- 
ditions. In  certain  respects  they  are  natural  contradictories. 
The  faith  of  the  unlettered  is  not  the  result  of  their  illiteracy, 
any  more  than  the  materialism  of  some  scientists  is  the  con- 
sequence of  their  science.  There  was  atheism  before  there 
was  evolution,  just  as  there  is  theism  after  it.  It  has  even 
deepened  the  faith  of  some.  To  many  an  explorer  its  results 
have  made  God  greater,  life  grander,  duty  holier,  though 
personally  I  do  not  think  that  this  theory,  or  for  that  matter 
any  other  theory,  can  take  faith  from  believers,  nor  give  faith 
to  unbelievers.  Kut  certainly  no  phase  of  knowledge  need 
stand  in  religion's  way— for  religion  is  not  less  than  science 
but  more  than  it,  and  is  dissatisfied  with  it  only  because  it 
cannot  go  far  enough.  We  need  not  be  afraid  whither  our 
researches  may  bring  us  for  we  can  never  exhaust  the  glories 
of  the  Infinite,  nor  fathom  the  source  of  the  Everlasting 
Good. 

Our  reasoning  faculties  are  the  gift  of  our  Maker  just  as 
much  as  our  conscience,  and  we  would  be  showing  poor 
gratitude  for  His  gifts  by  neglecting  or  mistrusting  them. 
God's  perpetual  revelation  unfolds  before  us.  just  as  fast  as 
our  expanding  souls  can  drink  it  in.  Let  us  not  deserve  the 
reproach  of  Isaiah  that  "having  eyes  we  see  not  and  having 
ears,  we  hear  not."  If  the  age  is  not  religious,  it  is  not  because 
the  age  is  wise.  And  he  who  only  knows  enough  to  be 
irreverent,  only  enough  to  deny,— he  knows  little  indeed,  and 
is  not  the  less  ignorant  because  he  disclaims  ignorance.  Many 


"a  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God."  Never  is 
the  proverbial  "  little  knowledge  "  so  dangerous  as  in  the 
realm  of  religion;  and  Heaven  save  us  from  the  newly-fledged 
college  graduate,  who  has  read  a  few  chapters  from  Herbert 
Spencer's  First  Principles  and  thinks  he  "  knows  it  all." 

And  yet  there  is  a  something  in  that  charge  against  the 
times,  with  which  I  opened,  one  sided  and  half-truth  though 
it  be,  that  bids  us  pause.  This  is  the  age  of  rationalism.  It 
has  made  as  its  motto  "the  voice  of  reason  is  the  voice  of 
God.;>  The  worth  of  all  things  in  the  heaven  above  and  in 
the  earth  beneath  must  be  tested  in  the  crucible  of  logic,  and 
be  capable  of  experimental  demonstration.  This  spirit  of 
rationalism  has  reached  religion  too.  Our  beliefs  and  doc- 
trines must  admit  of  almost  mathematical  deduction.  The 
pulpit  of  to-day  busies  itself  with  proofs  and  evidences  and 
appeals  to  the  intellect  of  the  congregation.  A  scientific 
lecture  will  often  replace  the  homely  sermon  of  olden  times. 

Of  course  it  would  be  childish  to  deny  that  this  spirit  of 
investigation  has  not  done  good  service  to  religion.  It  had 
cleared  it  from  error  and  misconception.  It  has  checked 
unbalanced  sentiment.  It  has  broadened  and  deepened  its 
principles  in  the  light  of  the  latest  knowledge.  But  our  en- 
thusiasm has  carried  us  too  far.  In  our  admiration  for  mind 
we  have  neglected  the  claims  of  emotion.  But  remove 
emotion  from  religion  and  you  reduce  it  to  a  cold  philosophy. 
Surely  religion  should  remind  itself  that  man  is  something 
more  than  a  thinking  machine.  The  intellectual  and  the 
emotional  sides  of  our  nature  react  on  each  other,  becoming 
mutually  helpful  by  revising  and  supplementing  each  other's 
deductions.  There  is  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge  that  is 
revealed  through  our  feelings,  that  cold  thought  would  never 
discern.  What  we  call  intuition,  from  which  we  have  learnt 
much,  is  a  conviction  of  the  soul  that  evades  demonstration 
through  the  mind. 


2.3) 

1 

Let  us  modify  the  maxim  of  the  age .  Reason  is  not  the 
voice  of  God  but  a  voice.  Is  it  the  "still  small  voice,'' 
must  be  religion's  supreme  question.  Let  rationalism  dispel 
our  illusions  by  all  means,  but  let  it  not  rob  us  of  the  sanction 
of  sentiment  or  we  will  be  paying  too  much  for  it.  Because 
religion  no  longer  fears  science  as  an  enemy,  it  must  not  go 
to  the  other  extreme  and  neglect  its  own  inheritance. 

Let  knowledge  grow  from  more  to  more, 
But  more  of  reverence  in  us  dwell. 

Religion  is  not  a  mere  deduction  from  reason,  nor  will 
it  admit  of  the  scholastic  methods  of  the  schools.  For  in- 
stance, it  is  not  a  matter  for  argument,  as  many  persons  sup- 
pose. Never  was  religion  more  outraged  than  when  stupid 
mediaeval  kings  gathered  priests  and  rabbis  to  argue  publicly 
the  merits  of  their  respective  religions— fitly  satirized  in  a 
poem  of  Heine.  The  best  that  is  in  religion  escapes 
demonstration  —  is  perhaps  degraded  by  demonstration. 
"Words  like  nature  half  reveal  and  half  conceal  the  thought 
within."  We  get  flashes  of  it  here  and  there  in  moments  of 
inspiration;  but  no  man  can  see  God's  face  and  live.  To  try 
to  reduce  religion  to  premises  of  a  syllogism  or  to  a  system  of 
deduction,  is  like  picking  a  rose  to  pieces  to  get  at  the  frag- 
rance. In  the  act  of  analysis  the  essence  is  gone. 

It  must  always  be  borne  in  mind  that  creeds  follow 
religions,  they  do  not  precede  them;  first  the  Prophets  and  then 
the  Law  was  the  real  order.  Creeds  are  but  the  result  of  look- 
ing back  upon  our  beliefs  after  the  religion  is  fully  developed, 
when  religious  fervor  has  cooled  down,  and  is  followed  by  a 
critical  stage,  during  which  man  tests  his  theories  and  modi- 
fies his  doctrines.  Prophets  make  religion,  scribes  make 
creeds . 

It  is,  then,  useless  for  man  to  go  to  science  or  to  philosophy 
to  find  out  God.  They  have  assured  us  time  and  again  that 
it  lies  beyond  their  province  either  to  prove  or  disprove 


8 


divinity,  their  conclusions  resulting'  only  in  antinomies. 
Religion  begins  where  science  ends.  I  venture  to  say  that 
even  the  proof  of  a  First  Cause  through  the  cosmological  or 
the  ontological  arguments  of  philosophy  would  have  no  value 
for  religion.  Such  demonstration  is  no  more  likely  to  inspire 
man  to  worship  than  mathematics  would  inspire  him  to  worship. 
It  is  approaching  God  from  the  wrong  side.  Here  are  differ- 
ent realms.  Religion  should  teach  man  to  reach  God  through 
the  soul.  When  we  must  needs  sit  down  to  prove  God,  our 
faith  is  in  a  desperate  condition.  The  Psalms  can  hardly  be 
said  to  contain  proofs  of  God,  yet  they  breathe  His  whole 
spirit.  It  is  not  a  book  of  proofs;  it  is  a  book  of  faith.  Faith! 
how  despised  that  word  is  to-day,  and  by  none  so  much  as 
by  ourselves.  I  am  fully  aware  of  the  abuses  to  which  blind 
faith  has  led  man,  just  as  well  as  I  am  aware  of  the  dreary 
and  despairing  results  of  science,  unaided  by  religious  imagi- 
nation. 

This  decline  of  faith  has  led  to  a  theory  as  popular  as  it  is 
sophistical.  Never  mind  what  a  man  believes,  so  long  as  he 
does  his  duty.  To  put  it  in  a  couplet  of  Pope's: 

For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight; 

He  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right. 

But  to  cry  for  morality  and  to  despise  faith  is  to  cry  for  flowers 
and  to  despise  roots,  and  is  as  unreasonable  as  to  expect  our 
flowers  to  continue  blooming  after  they  have  been  severed 
from  the  roots  on  which  they  grew. 

We  point  with  a  little  too  much  pride  and  a  little  too  much 
positiveness  to  the  absence  of  dogma  from  Judaism.  We 
should  not  forget  that  some  kind  of  faith  must  underlie  works, 
that  a  belief  is  unconsciously  implied  in  every  deed.  The 
greatness  of  our  ancestors,  as  the  religious  teachers  of  mankin  d 
lay  in  their  implicit  faith  in  the  power  of  a  righteous  God, 
whose  nearness  to  us  varies  with  our  moral  worth. 

That  we  have  not  a  distinctly  defined  creed  to-day,  or  that 


no  two  Hebrews  agree  as  to  what  are  the  essentials  of  Judaism, 
is  not  our  strength  but  our  weakness.  It  is  a  slip-shod  atti- 
tude that  leads  to  looseness  in  our  whole  religious  life.  What 
is  a  Jew?  What  isn't  a  Jew? — a  race,  a  nation,  a  religion,  a 
sentiment— what  not!  Orthodoxy  and  Reform  differ  chiefly 
in  ceremonial,  because  in  the  matter  of  principles  there  is  a 
hopeless  chaos.  I  think  it  is  time  we  decided  where  we 
stand. 

Indifference  to  doctrine  and  loss  of  faith  has  already  reacted 
on  us,  though  we  may  be  unaware  of  it.  They  have  been 
followed  by  a  lack  of  appreciation  of  prayer,  by  a  lowering  of 
our  ideals  of  life  and  by  a  loss  of  spirituality,  which  is  the 
bloom  of  that  very  morality  of  which  we  talk  so  much.  Spir- 
ituality is  a  word  easier  uttered  than  denned.  It  is  a  species 
of  moral  refinement  that  comes  from  a  vivid  realization  of  the 
soul's  kinship  with  divinity,  a  sense  of  entering  into  commun- 
ion with  God.  In  our  craze  for  rationalism  and  in  our  decline 
of  faith  we  have  wandered  so  far  from  the  spirit  of  our  ances- 
tors, that  the  yearning  of  the  Psalmist,"as  the  hart  panteth  after 
the  water  brooks  so  my  soul  panteth  after  thee,  O!  God,1' 
sounds  strange,  almost  incomprehensible  to  the  ears  of  the 
modern  practical,  prosaic  Jew,  as  though  this  were  the  phrase- 
ology of  some  other  creed  instead  of  the  very  spirit  of  the 
ancient  Hebrews.  I  can  almost  imagine  a  smile  at  my  refer- 
ence to  these  soul  yearnings,  because  from  the  material 
standpoint,  which  of  late  is  often  the  Jewish  standpoint,  it 
would  seem  that  these  expressions  must  either  cover  hypo- 
crisy or  are  the  result  of  weakmindedness  and  maudlin  senti- 
ment. 

But  the  modern  rationalist  will  tell  us  that  we  need  only 
"The  Truth,"  that  we  must  boldly  and  fearlessly  say  what  we 
think  regardless  of  consequence,  that  evil  cannot  possibly 
come  from  the  utterance  of  truth.  And  the  word  is  written 
in  big  capitals.  But  there  is  danger  here  too,  first  in  the  order 


10 


in  which  we  may  present  even  what  we  may  believe  to  be 
absolutely  right,  and  secondly  in  the  manner  of  presentation  — 
of  doing  much  harm  to  our  young  men.  For  since  we  can 
never  get  more  than  fragments  of  truth  at  best,  since  so  much 
is  left  to  the  inference  of  imagination,  in  which  emotion  and 
sentiment  play  so  large  a  part,  therefore  must  the  guardians 
and  teachers  of  religion,  realizing  the  solemnity  of  their  trustr 
strive  with  painstaking  and  conscientious  care,  so  to  present 
the  little  that  they  think  they  know  to  those  who  look  to  them 
for  guidance  in  the  highest  and  holiest  of  life's  duties,  that 
it  may  inspire  them  and  lead  to  their  spiritual  awakening;  and 
not  in  a  way  to  shock  their  moral  sensibilities,  producing 
religious  apathy  or  hopeless  despair. 

For  instance,  there  is  less  difference  between  the  old  theory 
of  the  supernatural  inspiration  of  the  Bible  and  the  new  school 
of  what  is  called  higher  criticism,  than'  there  is  between  the 
possible  ways  of  presenting  the  latter  for  the  purpose  of  cultiva- 
ting faith  and  reverence.  We  may,  like  Ingersoll,  see  in  the 
Pentateuch  nothing  but  "the  mistakes  of  Moses,"  and  may 
picture  it  to  the  public  in  a  caricature  as  the  slanderer  Schlei- 
ermacher  presented  the  Talmud.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  even 
in  discrediting  the  miracles,  as  miracles  we  can  show  the 
intense  morality  of  our  ancestors  behind  their  very  legends, 
since  all  things  are  made  to  happen  from  moral  causes;  and  the 
beautiful  trust  of  those  old  Hebrew  writers  in  an  ever  watchful 
Providence  "who  slumbereth  not  nor  sleepeth,"  that  has  made 
the  Bible  that  book  of  power  it  always  will  remain,  whatever 
be  the  theories  about  it.  The  touch  of  reverence  with  which 
we  present  the  truth  often  makes  more  difference  than  the 
truth  itself. 

So  much  depends  upon  the  attitude  with  which  we 
approach  the  Holy  of  Holies,  removing  our  shoes,  so  to 
speak,  Kin  trilp  noitf  '3,  or  whether  as  ''fools  we  rush  in 
where  angels  fear  to  tread,"  and  with  brutal  levity  tear 


ii 


aside  the  veil  to   gratify  a  vulgar  curiosity.       Mockery   in 
religion  is  worse  than  doubt. 

Mockery  is  a  Vandal  that  ruthlessly  shatters  our  hallowed 
sentiments  enshrined  in  ths  temple  of  our  hearts,  and  by  its 
coarse  jeers  tears  into  shreds  the  "living  garment  of  God,'' 
in  which  the  labors  of  all  humanity  are  interwoven.  Mock- 
ery makes  the  sacred  profane,  tainting  the  soul  with  its 
venom,  and  the  holier  the  theme,  the  more  revolting  becomes 
the  caricature,  for  "corruptio  optimi  pessima."  The 
variation  of  a  tone  changes  a  prayer  into  a  sneer,  and  may  do 
more  to  upset  the  honest  faith  of  an  honest  soul  than  twenty 
solid  arguments;  for,  though  it  be  but  a  step  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  from  the  ridiculous  to  the  sublime 
is  a  gulf  impassable. 

Therefore,  in  the  religious  education  of  children,  the 
manner  of  presentation  should  give  us  much  concern.  Some 
really  conscientious  parents,  anxious  to  preserve  in  the  home 
the  old  Jewish  customs,  have  killed  the  religious  sentiment 
of  their  children  by  the  rough,  matter-of-fact  way  in  which 
they  fulfilled  them,  robbing  those  beautiful  rites  of  all  their 
spiritual  value.  Prayer  without  reverence  is  worse  than 
nothing.  Here,  again,  the  modern  rationalists  give  too  much 
consideration  to  the  question,  "teach  us  what  to  pray,"  and 
not  enough  to  the  question,  •''teach  us  how  to  pray."  \Ve 
are  so  afraid  that  our  prayers  might  not  be  quite  logical,  or 
that  an  anthropomorphism  might  creep  in,  as  if  the  feeling 
were  not  everything  and  the  words  nothing. 

Without  teaching  the  children  any  precise  dogmas  at  the 
outset,  we  must  first  strive  diligently  and  lovingly  to  cultivate 
their  sense  of  reverence,  not  necessarily  for  any  particular 
object  or  idea,  but  reverence  as  such, as  a  quality  of  character. 
Open  to  its  young  soul  the  perpetual  mystery  and  the  perpe- 
tual sublimity  of  all  that  is.  It  will  then  of  itself  look  upon  life 
and  the  universe  from  its  sublime  side,  and  the  idea  of  God 


12 


will  almost  be  intuitively  suggested  before  it  is  distinctly. 
In  this  way,  the  very  framework  of  religion  is  already  laid  in 
the  heart  of  the  child,  ready  to  be  clothed  with  the  particular 
faith  of  its  ancestors.  The  perpetual  wonder  of  a  child 
for  everything  around  it  may  be  darkened  into  fear,  may  be 
discouraged  into  matter  of  fact,  or  may  be  deepened  into  awe. 
liere  is  the  parent's  supreme  opportunity  and  supreme 
responsibility.  The  child's  boundless  and  sensitive  imagina- 
tion, one  of  its  greatest  charms,  must  be  wisely  directed  to 
religious  uses. 

Religion  is  our  conception  of  the  universe  —  Weltanschauung 
—  as  the  Germans  call  it.  The  child's  universe  is  very  small 
indeed,  but  we  can  make  it  pure  and  sweet  and  beautiful  —  or 
we  can  make  it  common  and  rough  and  dreary.  For  life  for 
all  of  us  is  what  we  make  it,  sublime  or  commonplace.  If 
children  come  to  our  Sunday  Schools,  with  little  faith,  with 
little  reverence  for  the  Sanctuary,  and  its  associations  lacking 
that  spiritual  touch  which  indicates  the  cultivation  of  the  sense 
of  sanctity,  we  can  but  trace  these  conditions  to  the  parents, 
to  the  home.  Parents  stand  to  the  child  as  representatives  of 
God,  and  disobedience  to  them  is  a  sacrilege.  Home  is  the 
first  shrine,the  hearth  is  the  first  altar,parents  are  the  first  min- 
istering priests.  To  their  loving  care  is  entrusted  the  laying  of 
the  foundations  of  religion,  upon  which  we  can 
only  build  later.  How  faithful  have  we  been  to  this,  the  high- 
est of  all  parental  obligations? 

In  trying  to  present  the  importance  of  faith  and  reverence 
in  religion,  I  am  only  asking  that  we  go  back  to  first  principles. 
Since  it  was  the  privilege  of  our  ancestors  to  bring  to  man  the 
first  message  of  righteous  divinity,  let  us  resume  our  ancient 
birth-right.  And  in  an  age  that  would  worship  reason  only 
like  some  new  idol,  let  us  vindicate  the  claims  of  the  soul. 
"There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth"  than  we  can  ever 
hope  to  explain.  We  say  with  the  Psalmist  "such  knowledge 


13 

is  too  wonderful  for  me,  I  cannot  attain  to  it."  But  faith  begins 
where  knowledge  ends.  Our  senses  have  been  developed  to 
the  utmost,  but  the  endless  capacities  of  the  spirit,  in  which 
are  hidden  divine  possibilities,  are  still  almost  untested.  The 
realm  of  the  soul  is  still  an  undiscovered  world,  yet  all  the 
greatness  of  the  coming  man  lies  there— all  our  messianic  hopes 
and  grandest  ideals.  Let  religion  then  return  to  its  neglected 
inheritance,  and  perhaps,  like  unto  Moses,  the  glory  of  God 
may  pass  before  us. 


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